Dreamer
by Lilian David
Summary: Let me tell you a story of war, and of love, of laughter, of tears, of forgiveness, and those things which may never be forgiven. Let me tell you of one girl's desperate attempt to stop a dark lord rising and let me tell you how she failed.
1. Chapter 1

**Dreamer**

This is not a love story, not in the conventional sense of the word. Walk with me, and listen, and I will tell you. Let me tell you of war, and of love, of forgiveness and those things which may never be forgiven, let me tell you the story of one girl's desperate attempt to prevent a dark lord rising, and let me tell you how she failed.

* * *

_Warm lips upon hers and the haunting scent of shoe polish and something darker. Her eyes open to meet his dark ones. And the world spins and tilts away as it is the way of dreams to do, but the look in his eyes lingers in her heart and mind._

_ "You stupid slut, what is it that he sees in you?" She knows that scathing voice._

"_I'm not, you know." Her voice is dangerously gentle and impossibly cold. "But I won't hold it against you, you're foolish enough to be obsessed with him."_

_ "Aren't you?" Asks the girl, voice soft, sounding for a moment young and impossibly lost. "Isn't everyone?" Reilly laughs._

_ "I am. But I know exactly how foolish I'm being. I don't think you do."_

"_What makes you so clever, how do you know so much? What is it that he sees in you? I'm prettier, I more obedient, I don't understand."_

_ "Yes. You are quite pretty and I don't doubt that you are obedient. But that is it, isn't it, Olive? It's the challenge. I'm dangerous, and you're safe and familiar. You're obedient and submissive and I am anything but."_

_ "He's not like other guys."_

"_Sure he is. Everyone loves a challenge, right? He more than most."_

_ "He's not. He's not like anyone else in this world."_

"_No. He's not. But he has a lot in common with a firestorm. Neat, pretty, enchanting almost, but if you get too close..."_

_ "You love him."_

"_Don't you?"_

_ The world shifts from vision to nightmare. The water rushes towards her as the pressure on the back of her head forces her downward. It's cold as ice and her lungs burn. She can feel the pressure on her head, the rope holding her arms uncomfortably tight behind her._

_ She jerks on them, ignoring the burning pain that is the rope upon her wrists and the pressure on her shoulders. She's pulled up by her hair. She gasps for air._

_ Down. Again. And up. And down. In the distance she can almost hear screaming. Up. Down. Up and down again. The water swirls around her, dark and impossibly cold. The tile is harsh upon her knees. _

_ She doesn't go up. Her lungs are burning for air and she's not coming up. And she panics, her mouth opens and instead of taking in water, she wakes._

* * *

"Miss Reilly, Miss Reilly!?"

"It's fine." And nothing was fine. She was cold and warm and shaking and the bedding was twisted in a knot and covered in sweat, her throat raw from screaming. "It's fine Candice. I'm fine." The old elf stared at her with wide, doubting eyes. "Go on. There's nothing you can do. If you make tea, I'll be down in a bit. Breakfast is out though."

She untangled herself from the bed and slowly made her way to the bathroom. The bathroom of the old manor was styled by magic to appear as natural as possible. The tub was a pool-like depression in the floor, the tile a dark gray.

She laughed, a laugh full of bitterness and despair, touched with mild hysteria. "God." She said softly. "God, I hate this." She let the thin nightgown fall from her skin and climbed carefully into the dark water. She was grateful that the heating charms were still working and the water was pleasantly warm. She did not waste time bathing.

She had just slipped into her day robes when there was a knock on her bedroom door. "What do you want Abraxas?" She said, wearily.

"That old elf of yours says you won't be taking breakfast. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

"I don't care what it sounds like." She snapped. She could hear his laughter in the hall. "Shut up, Abraxas. I don't need this right now."

"You dressed?"

"Yes." He shoved the door open.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks. Just what I wanted to hear." She said, voice dry.

"I live to please."

"I just bet you do." She said darkly. "Why the hell are you bothering me? And don't give me that crap are, about being worried. You know I barely ever eat breakfast."

"She said you were going to have another guest, after I left."

"I'm impressed you got her to tell you that." Her tone was that of mild interest.

"What the hell do you want with Tom Riddle, Reilly?" He pressed her against her dresser, his eyes dark. "You're my sister-" He held up his hand to stop her speaking "-My cousin, technically, I don't care, you're my sister, and I don't want you hurt."

"It's sweet that you worry." There was a darkness and an anger to that biting response, and she shoved him away from her.

"Reilly," And there was a seriousness in his voice that silenced the fuming witch. "He's dangerous."

"I know."

"Do you?" He asked, his voice heavy. "Reilly, I've tried my best to hide you from him. But-?"

"Let's get tea, Abraxas. I'll answer your questions then."

"If I may?" He asked, offering his arm. She took it with a wry smile and allowed him to lead her into one of the sitting rooms.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a gentleman." He laughed.

"I don't know what I'll do if something happens to you, Reilly." He said, seriously, "You're my sister and I-"

"You couldn't have taken care of me then. We were children. You can't now either."

"Reilly?" The old elf popped into the room and set a tray of tea on the nearest end table. "Tea?" He asked, sighing.

"Please." He poured a cup and gave it to her, and she moved to the window, staring into the distance as though it might reveal something. He took his own cup and stood beside her, looking over her shoulder.

"Reilly?" He prompted, voice gentler.

"I'm not going to see you married." She said, watching the window. "I won't even see you graduate."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know I have the sight. I've had it since we were children."

"Yes. I know. I was darn spooked when I first met you and you informed me that I was going to be your brother. You and those ghost eyes that see so much."

"Yes. And I've seen my death."

"And there's nothing you can do, nothing I can do?"

"Nothing that has consequences I am willing to accept."

"So there are options, what are they? I'll deal with whatever they are."

"There is only one option that would keep me alive at this point, Abraxas."

"And?"

"I can live a long life without my sanity, as a threat to everyone around me, serving a Dark Lord. I saw myself torturing your child, Abraxas. I won't accept that future." He stayed silent. "My other option is to live these next few years to the fullest, to try to change the world for the better in the time I have left. I will live, and die, with my mind intact. Well, with my mind no worse than it already is." She smiled and turned to him.

"So what's this have to do with Tom Riddle?" She laughed.

"Everything." She said, and took a sip of her tea. "Besides, I could have something with him you know."

"Please, Reilly, please." He sighed. "That is about the last thing I want for you. Tom, he's-" Abraxas stopped for a moment, lost for words, "-Unique. And dangerous, and I don't want my sister near him. Besides, I think he's seeing someone."

"I'm not going to make it out of Hogwarts, it hardly matters if he's dangerous."

"Is it his doing? Your death? Is it his doing?"

"It's an accident." She snapped, her eyes going to her cup. "Besides, I think," She bit her lip, "I think I may find that I care a great deal for him by the time it is done." His eyes darkened. "Abraxas, please, everyone dies. Make your peace with it."

He set down his cup, and wrapped his arms around her. He was tall enough that he could rest his chin on her shoulder. They stood like that for a long time, and if she knew her tea was cold, she said nothing, and if she knew that tears ran down his face, she said nothing.

He buried his face in her neck. "I love you."

"I know." She said, and blinked back the tears in her own eyes. "Please, Abraxas, this isn't goodbye." She set her cup down in the window ledge, turned to face him, holding her hands on his forearms. "I will always love you, you will always be my best friend and older brother. I got through all of that shit as a child because I knew that when it was over, I'd have a brother who loved me more than anything. I could have died a thousand times then, so let's just be grateful for the time that we have."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Not this year." He hugged her tightly again before letting her go.

"Come on. I refuse to dwell on what hasn't happened yet. We're going riding."

* * *

The day ended in laughter, the two teens sprawled across the ground in the garden. He was pale with eyes of a deep cerulean blue and hair so blonde as to be near white, his smile was wide and genuine, his laughter loud and clear. She too was pale, with dark brown hair and eyes of the faintest green. Both wore their hair long and tied back, and his was slightly longer.

"You're so silly, Abraxas." She was giggling though, as she said it. He rolled over and plucked a nearby lily.

"My fair sister." He said and proceeded to bop her head lightly with the plant, "It is not I who is silly." She giggled even more. Then snatched the plant and threw it at him. He threw it back.

* * *

"_One day, soon, wizards shall take their rightful place in the world, and we shall be instrumental in bringing that day about. Friends, is it not true that we, gifted with magic, are superior to the muggles? Is it not true that muggles fear us and will try to harm us because they know that we are superior? Too long have we lived in fear, too long-" The wizard was blonde with long, curling hair and eyes that shone with passion. She knew his name, as all did, he was Grindewald, the dark wizard._

_ The world passed away from the wizard. London was burning. The muggle orphanage she had seen in her dreams was aflame. But then, so was everything else. Large things dropped from the sky by the muggle's wingless birds and London burned and burned. _

_ "It doesn't matter. They will always fear what they do not understand and cannot control, and can you not see it? Are they not a threat? This could have been Diagon Alley. This could have been Hogsmead." He wasn't speaking to her, that dark haired boy whose face she knew so well. He was older and there was a weariness about him that she had not seen before._

* * *

She woke slowly, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Her mirror revealed her hair in disarray and deep circles beneath her eyes. "You need to sleep more, deary." Said the mirror.

"Go to hell." She told it and stalked into the bathroom.

Later, Reilly stared at her dresser, willing it to simply throw an outfit at her. It didn't. She sighed and began to fish through drawers for something suitable. It was in a stern, no-nonsense, black dress that she finally left the room. She made her way slowly down the stairs.

"Mistress Reilly, Good Morning. Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine, Candice." She said, the small elf walking alongside her.

"Do you still intend to fetch Mr. Riddle today?" She nodded. "I've the room ready, just as you asked."

"Good." The dawn light brought out red highlights in her brown hair as she left the manor and began to walk down the drive. Reilly Dawning did not halt as she approached the gate, she did not even slow, simply held out her hand and walked through it. Reilly Dawning, did not however, appear on the other side, but walked out of a wall in nocturn ally, London.

It was not a place she had any real desire to be at such an hour, and so she hurried through the street towards Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. It was mid-morning when Reilly reached the Home for Little Wanderers on Vauxhall Road. Taking a moment to brace herself, she walked up the stone steps, passing the high walls. Reilly did not look around as she knocked sharply on the door.

"Wha'ist?" A girl a few years younger than Reilly opened the door, she was small and her clothes were tattered.

"May I speak with Mrs. Cole please," Reilly said pleasantly.

"Mrs. Cole, someone t'see you!" The girl shouted. "Her office is this way." She said, leading Reilly down a shabby hallway.

"Yes, is there something you need?"

"I'm here to see someone,"

"Who?"

"Tom Riddle." She said quietly, watching the startled look pass over the faces of Mrs. Cole and the girl. "I realize that you don't really do visits, but as I've come to take him off your hands for a while..." She let her voice trail off.

"You do realize-" Mrs. Cole began, then stopped to rephrase her thoughts. "Tom is, well, a little-"

"Odd, yes, I know." She was still smiling at them. "I've known Tom for some time now."

"I can't let you take him unless I know-"

"My parents are dead," Reilly said, "I might have been here myself, is it wrong for me to want to give a friend an opportunity to stay somewhere else?" She kept her voice light, quiet and gentle, "You can't really deal with him, and I can. Isn't that enough?"

"Yes, well,"

"Please Mrs. Cole, It's not so long until we're back in school again, anyway."

"You go to that school with him?"

"Oh yes." She said, "Now," She said to the girl, "Would you mind helping me find him? I'm afraid I didn't warn him that I'd be coming."

"Right..." The girl said slowly, "This way." She led her from the hall in front of Mrs. Cole's office up a set of rickety stairs. Two flights later and a long hallway, the two stood in the entrance of what appeared to be a sitting room of sorts. The furniture was tattered and mismatched, children lounged about the room.

"Tom's room is down the hall through there," She pointed to the door across the room, "Second door on the right, you can't miss it." Reilly nodded her thanks as the girl left.

Reilly walked towards the door the girl had pointed to. As she approached the door, a boy swung his arm around her waist. "Hey there, sweetheart, why don't you and I get to know each other a little better, hmm?" He pulled her down into his lap. In defense of his judgment, if not his morals, it was unlikely that he had heard who it was she went to see.

Reilly's fist connected with his face as she jerked herself away. "Don't ever lay a hand on me again." Her voice was ice.

"You are feisty, aren't you, sweetheart?" He observed, reaching his hand out to her again.

"Drop dead." There was ice in her veins as she walked past him. In her defense, Reilly had no idea that five days later, he would do just that, a victim of the disease that was beginning to spread through his body.

Reilly walked down the hallway, stopping at the second door on the right. The door was slightly ajar, and so she slipped silently through the open space. "Tom, Tom Riddle?" The boy was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his eyes drifted to her as she entered.

"Why are you here, Dawning?" His voice was tired as she went to sit on his bed beside him. As she examined his features, she noted a broken nose and black eye, her eyes traced down his body, noting bruises and contusions of all sorts.

"What the hell are they doing to you here!?" She said, horrified.

"It's none of your business, girl." He snapped, surveying the girl he knew of more by reputation than experience.

"If it is of any interest, I had come here to take you away from all this." Her voice was dryly amused.

"Oh?" He asked, sitting up and watching her carefully.

"I thought you might like to spend the rest of your summer somewhere more pleasant." She said mildly.

"And where would that be?"

"Honestly, Riddle! For once in your life can you stop asking questions and just come with me? I'll patch you up properly when we get to the manor." She said, irritated.

"Just where are you planning on taking me?" He asked, voice betraying mild interest. He hid well his willingness to go with this acquaintance, to go with anyone, do anything, to get out of the orphanage.

"Home," She answered quietly, "Well, sort of." Because home wasn't the cold manor she had spent her childhood in, it wasn't even Malfoy manor with it's tall, iron wrought gates, home was Hogwarts, the first place she had ever felt safe. He pulled his trunk from beneath his bed and threw the few personal affects that were in the room onto the top.

"That's kind of you."

"Not especially." She said as he closed his trunk. "Would you like me to carry that?" He glared at her.

"I can get it."

"I can't resurrect you if you manage to kill yourself." She informed him, "Honestly, Riddle, you look like a corpse."

"And you look like a widowed muggle in that dress, but I was going to be polite and not say anything about it." She scowled. "And not a pretty one."

"Go to hell." She snapped.

"All in good time." He smiled disarmingly, though his eyes held laughter. In a moment she understood why everyone was so drawn to him, why the world danced to his tune, spun around him in an ever twirling spiral.

He lifted his trunk easily. Reilly wasn't all that surprised, he had put a charm on it without his wand, perhaps he had even done it deliberately. "Do come along Riddle, I've arranged everything." She held the door out for him and he looked at her skeptically. "Don't you trust me?" He shook his head as they stepped out into the hall.

The room was silent, staring as the two stepped out together. Reilly Dawning and Tom Riddle walked through the room and down the hall. Then down the stairs and later, into the street. "Shall we?" She asked, guiding him towards the entrance to Diagon Ally. Then she turned around, pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.

"Episkey." His face healed before her eyes and she smiled cheerfully. "The beautiful thing about Diagon Ally is that the can't tell who's doing the magic, they just assume that the person's of age." Tom's face betrayed no surprise. "Do you mind apparating?"

"You can apparate? When did you learn?" She shrugged, and held out her arm.

"Not all that long ago," She admitted as he took her hand and with a loud crack, they were gone. They appeared on the grounds of Dawning Manor, and Reilly took his trunk from his hand, nearly dropping as it got heavy. "You can do magic here, if you wish; The wards keep the ministry from sensing it." She informed him, stepping inside.

"I'll show you to your room." She said, leading him through the front doors and up a winding staircase. She set his trunk down in a room and turned to face Tom. "Breakfast is in the dining hall at eight every morning, lunch at noon, dinner at six, I trust you can find your way?"

"Yes." Tom said quietly, stepping forward to close the space between them. "This is very good of you, Miss Dawning." Reilly took a step backward slowly as Tom approached her. "I would hate for you to think I'm not...properly grateful."

"What are you going on about?" Her voice was not that of the confident girl who had commanded so strongly before, she was frightened.

"You're frightened," He said, moving ever closer to her. "Why?"

"You're acting oddly." She said, and shook her head, seeming to shake the traces of fear from her mind, for when she spoke again it was quick, brusque. "At any rate, you still look like death warmed over and you haven't let me finish doing anything about it."

"And what do you propose I do?"

"Sit down and let me fetch a few things." She suggested. As there was nowhere else to sit, Tom stretched out upon the bed, more relieved to be off his feet than he cared to admit. The witch raised an eyebrow when she came in, but said nothing as she sat beside him on the bed.

"Drink this," She handed him one of the potions in her arms. "It's a mild sleeping draught." She informed him as he watched her dubiously.

"I don't need it." He said, pushing it away.

"Fine." She said, voice rather sharp, setting it on the bedside table beside the rest of her potions. She picked up another and carefully moistened a cloth with it. Tom swore as she brushed it against the cut on his cheek. He could see steam rising from it.

"Good Lord, woman! What is that thing?" He tried to push her away, but she leaned her weight upon his somewhat bruised ribs and he subsided.

"Wound cleansing potion." She said, showing him the bottle. "I'm good with bones, not so much with cuts and bruises." Tom gritted his teeth as the cloth made it's way along his neck and hands. "Do you mind?" She asked quietly as her fingers undid the top button on his shirt, her cloth tracing a cut along his chest.

Tom didn't protest as his shirt buttons came undone and her cloth worked down his body. He watched her with amusement as she finished cleaning every wound she could without removing further clothing. She set the cloth aside and picked up another potion and cloth.

"Another one?" He asked, as she dabbed the new potion upon his skin, this one didn't hurt, so Tom was left to examine his host without distraction. Reilly Dawning's long brown hair hung low and brushed across his skin as she worked, her green eyes shone with a light he had seen nowhere else. She was, he observed, not an unattractive witch.

"Murtlap essence." She explained as she worked."It will take the sting away." When she had finished, she set that aside as well and drew a thick yellowish paste. "For the bruises." She said as her nimble fingers danced across his skin.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I had reason enough when my parents lived." She said quietly as she set the past aside and folded her hands together. "I should be going, It's late, and you'll need the rest."

"You could stay." His lips were raised in a smug smile as her eyes widened.

"I will see you at breakfast, Tom Riddle." She said, with as much dignity as she could muster. She stood and strode briskly from the room, her head high. Tom laughed quietly.

The truth was, he knew her more by reputation than anything else. She was Malfoy's sister, and the boy had done his utmost to keep her hidden from him. Certainly he'd been aware of it, but had seen little value in pressing the point.

But she was familiar in an eerie way, and she had known about the orphanage. Had casually walked in and taken him away. They weren't friends, not really, though he was _friends_ with her brother. She knew too much, but he had time, the rest of summer, to decide what to do about that.

* * *

Tom woke to screaming. It took him a moment to realize where he was, another to recognize the voice of his host. Grabbing his wand, he made his way towards the noise. He halted in her doorway, observing the room. She was alone, the candle on her nightstand cast shadows through the bedroom.

She was asleep, and she was still screaming. "Dawning, wake up." He commanded, moving over to her. She didn't. "Reilly!" He insisted. He looked about the room for inspiration and his eyes fell upon a sleeping potion. 'Dreamless Sleep', the potion said, and he made a mental note that it clearly lied.

"Reilly," He said softer, knowing she wouldn't wake. "It's alright." He tried to be soothing, it didn't seem to be working. "It's alright," He tried again, trying to speak to her like he would a frightened snake. That seemed to work better.

He held her as her screaming died. Her nails dug into his skin as she held onto him as though he were a lifeline. It didn't take him long to deduce he wasn't leaving until she woke up, so he slid into bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

He slept rather fitfully, but wasn't woken by screaming again, not until morning. "What the hell?" She asked, loudly.

"Your dreamless sleep potion doesn't work."

"What?"

"You were screaming."

"I'm sorry." She said slowly. "They never work on me, but I thought it was worth a try."

"It kept you asleep."

"And screaming. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it so difficult for you, it must have been a rough night."

"It wasn't so bad. You're rather clingy in your sleep." She looked down at the flimsy nightgown she was wearing, in horror. She turned absolutely crimson.

"Out. Get out, Now. I'm putting on actual clothes." She brushed him from the room rather hastily.

When he saw her again, she was in the dining room wearing pants, dressed wizarding casual and looking much more awake. "Good morning." She said, trying to look cheerful.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"The future." She shrugged, "And the past."

"Is the future so terrible?"

"Sometimes." She smiled slightly, "Are you hungry?" After they had eaten, Reilly showed him the library and he spent the rest of his day engrossed in it.

He was in bed reading a book on ancient warding magic when he heard screaming. He sighed and closed his book, making a mental note of the page. He took it, and his candle over to Reilly's bedroom. "Reilly, you're alright." He told her gently, unsure if he spoke parseltongue or English.

He set his candle on her nightstand and sat down beside her on the bed, leaning against the wall and opening his book. He stroked her hair absently.

* * *

_ It's dark and so cold and so, so crammed. She can't move, can hardly breath. And she hurts and she's hungry and she doesn't know how long it's been. And the silence stretches on to eternity. "Let me out! Let me out!" She screaming, crying, begging and no one comes, no one answers. And she's scared, impossibly scared and she just wants to see the sun again. She just wants this to end. _

"Should I just start out here?" He asked her when she woke.

"I'm going to invest in more modest sleeping clothes." She muttered as she crawled out of bed. If he noticed the tears she brushed from her eyes, he didn't comment on it.

"What are you dreaming about?" And in that blurry state between sleep and wakefulness she answered without thinking.

"Voldemort."

"How do you know that name?"

"I told you. I dreamed it." The fury and panic in his voice woke her quicker than hot water. "I see the future. I know, you don't believe it, no one does at first. But at least give me the benefit of the doubt, you've time enough for that, I think."

"Why don't you tell me something that's going to happen?" His voice soft, and deadly. "Show me that you're telling the truth." She sighed and closed her eyes.

"I can't." She snapped. "It's not that simple."

"Why don't you simplify it then. Find a way. Shouldn't you have forseen this question?"

"Any idiot could forsee that question." She said snidely,

"Then by all means, Dawning, answer it."

"Believe whatever the hell you want, Riddle."

"Dangerous suggestion." He cautioned.

"Get out." She hissed. "I am not awake enough to tolerate this from you, Tom Riddle, so kindly, get out."

"If you weren't-"

"You have a room of your own. You _can_ stay there." And at that moment there came a tapping on the window, an owl.

"Take your damned letter and get out." She snapped.

"I'll see you for breakfast, Dawning." He said with a smile, walking out with the owl on his arm and the letter in one hand. It was indeed from Abraxas Malfoy.

"You're brother disapproves of my spending time with you."

"Yes." She said, and sipped her tea.

"How does he know?" She shrugged. "How much does he know?" And his voice grew softer, more dangerous.

"Abraxas doesn't know anything." She snapped. "I knew what I was risking, bringing you here. Probably had a better idea of it than he did."

"Oh?" His voice was still cold.

"You'll change the world, I think." She said, and shrugged. "But I won't see it. And that's the bit my brother has difficulties with." His eyebrows raised. "I'm going to die. Not today," She said, with a wry smile, "Nor tomorrow, or the next, not even this year." She said, and shrugged.

"If that's the case, what am I going to do about you?"

"You're going to decide that killing me will be messy and create suspicion and that no one is going to believe anything that comes from a girl who claims to be a seer. And," Her voice grew tight, "You're going to remember that I'll do anything to protect my brother." She swallowed heavily.

It took him a few hours to realize that she was indeed correct.

"You're brother is a very dear friend of mine."

"I know."

"And I would hate to endanger that friendship by allowing any harm to befall you."

"Yes?"

"So I will have to keep you close and keep an eye on you. After all, if you show any signs of that familial insanity, someone will have to take you to St. Mungo's."

She didn't say anything, but he could see the anger flash through her eyes. The truth was that he admired her spirit. She was no quiet, obedient, little witch. She stood and turned to stare out the window.

"As you would." There was venom in her voice, but she did not look at him.

* * *

_"Stay away from my sister, Riddle."_

"_Malfoy, what on earth are you-?"_

_ "I mean it, Tom. Anything else, you know that, but not her. I can't lose her, Tom, I can't. I have to keep her safe."_

_ "Crucio." And the blonde writhes. "Your sister is quite the interesting witch, very...engaging." And he is smiling that beautiful, dangerous smile. _

_ "Stay away from her!" He doesn't even have to say the spell and the blonde screams._

"_We can do this all day, Abraxas, but I can't imagine your sister really wants to hear about this. Imagine how guilty she'll feel." Abraxas does't say anything, just stares in horror. Tom traces his wand along the blonde's cheek and the teen flinches. _

_ "You have Olive-"_

"_Hush." And Abraxas falls silent, though his eyes blazedwith fury. "You're very protective of her. Especially protective for someone who wasn't there to chase away her nightmares. You weren't there, Malfoy," His voice is gentle, almost a caress, and Abraxas flinches as if struck. "You couldn't protect her then, and you can't protect her now." _

_ "Riddle!" Tom raises his eyebrows. "M-My lord?"_

"_I'm going to leave you here, Abraxas. She's going to find you and she's going to know exactly why you were hurt."_

_ "She'll be furious."_

"_But with who?" He smiles that dangerous smile again. "She'll do everything I ask of her, because she blame herself if you're hurt." Tom leans in, tracing his wand across the teen's face once more. "And the thing is, she's going to know that I was being kind," The wand moves down to the teen's shirt, "She's going to know I spared you for her sake."_

_ "You whoring son of a gutter-"_

"_Crucio."_

* * *

She didn't see him atbreakfast, but she found him in the library that afternoon. "Tom?" She asked, he looked up from his book. She was pale, ghostly pale, and there were dark rings about her eyes. She looked as though she had been crying.

"What?"

"I-" She shook her head. "My brother, he-" She shook her head again, "Damn it." She whispered, and slipped a sheet of paper into his hand. "I-" She broke off again, "Don't read it now. It won't do any good." She sighed, shook her head once more.

"Sit down, Dawning. You're distraught." She grimaced and didn't move. He set his book down and grasped her arms. "Sit down, Dawning." He physically moved her into a chair. "Now what is the problem." She stared, and then she started crying again.

He sat down in the chair across from her and stared at her, more or less at a loss. He caught some muttered words, a certain amount of cussing, and a name.

"What's wrong with your brother?"

"Nothing!"

"If that's how you feel about nothing, I'd hate to see how you react to something."

"Shut up! You jerk! This is your fault."

"Perhaps you could explain so I might decide that for myself?" He suggested mildly. "I haven't seen you all day and I certainly haven't seen your brother, I can't imagine what I might have done to upset you."

"It's not what you've done, it's your going to do." She said, furiously. Her blazing eyes snapping up to meet his. "He's an idiot about me. And he's terrified of what you'll do to me and he's so, so, stupid about it." And that, Tom reflected, was quite true.

"And what stupid thing is your brother going to do?"

"He's going to tell you to stay away from me." She said, voice full of irritation. "As if I can't take care of myself."

"And?"

"And he's going to be stupid about it and your going to hurt him and please, please, please don't hurt my brother. I'm short term and he's not. You're stuck with him, you'll have him for ages, but I'm short term. I'm not worth it."

"That's not really your choice, Dawning."

"Well it should be!"

"What is it you want from me, Reilly?" His voice was gentle, and he went over to her, tilted her head up so that their eyes met.

"Don't hurt him." She said, voice soft, though her eyes held his. "Please don't hurt him."

"I can't promise you that. If your brother is dumb enough to challenge me, I'm going to have to hurt him." He saw darkness form in her eyes. "But I promise that he'll live through it. You won't lose him for that. All right?" There was doubt in her eyes.

"And how do I trust you?"

"You saw it, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And he lived through it?"

"Yes."

"There you have it then." He said, and ruffled her hair gently. "And you'll do as I ask of you, Reilly? To keep your brother safe?" His voice was so soft, so inviting, impossibly gentle. It would been friendly, pleasant, if she couldn't recognize the threat and the danger he held.

"Yes." She barely said the word, but he heard it all the same. The smile didn't leave his face as he left the library. As he stood in the hall, he could hear her start crying again. He smiled to himself.

"What was it you saw that compelled you to bring me here?" She looked to the floor. "I'm waiting, Dawning."

"You can keep waiting." She snapped.

"Can I?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice that caught her attention and her head shot upwards, her eyes met his.

"Yes. I expect you can." And she gave him a wry smile. "I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Does it still?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But I think they were going to push you to a snapping point, and at least here, committing murder isn't quite as necessary."

"What are you implying I'm capable of, Dawning?" And the danger was back in his voice.

"Easy." She snapped. "No need to get so uptight. I'm not implying a damned thing." They both knew that was a lie.

"The hell you're not."

"Hell indeed." He laughed.

"You've done a nice job of not answering the question."

"I-" He held a hand to stop her speaking.

"I'll let it go for the time being. But this isn't done."

"Of course not." He smiled. "It never is with you." His smile widened.

Abraxas was at the gate the next morning.

"If you're wondering where my sister is, mother decided to take her shopping, so she's gone for the day."

"So you're here to see me, then?"

"Yes. I've something I want to say to you."

"By all means."

"Stay away from my sister, Riddle." And he could see how much it cost the boy to say those words, he could watch the mustered courage falter.

"Malfoy, what on earth are you-?"

"I mean it, Tom. Anything else, you know that, but not her. I can't lose her, Tom, I can't. I have to keep her safe." It was not bravery that forced the words from his tongue but fear and desperation.

"Crucio." The blonde writhed on the front walkway. "Your sister is quite the interesting witch, very...engaging."

"Stay away from her!" Abraxas said, voice furious, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. Tom cast a silent crucio at the blonde.

"We can do this all day, Abraxas, but I can't imagine your sister really wants to hear about this. Imagine how guilty she'll feel." The blonde didn't say anything, just stared in horror. Tom knelt and traced his wand along the blonde's cheek and had the pleasure of watching him flinch.

"You have Olive-"

"Hush." And Abraxas fell silent, though his eyes blazed with fury. "You're very protective of her. Especially protective for someone who wasn't there to chase away her nightmares. You weren't there, Malfoy," His voice was gentle, almost a caress, and Abraxas flinched. "You couldn't protect her then, and you can't protect her now."

"Riddle!" Tom raised his eyebrows. "M-My lord?"

"I'm going to leave you here, Abraxas. She's going to find you and she's going to know exactly why you were hurt."

"She'll be furious."

"But with who?" He smiled again. "She'll do everything I ask of her, because she blame herself if you're hurt." Tom leaned in, tracing his wand across the teen's face once more. "And the thing is, she's going to know that I was being kind," The wand moved down to the teen's shirt, "She's going to know I spared you for her sake."

"You whoring son of a gutter-"

"Crucio." It was only hours later that he remembered the paper she had given him that day in the library. A chill rose up his spine when he realized that she had written exactly what had taken place.

* * *

The sight that greeted her upon her return turned her blood to ice. She started screaming as she ran to him. His hair was matted and bloody and he was curled into a ball on the front steps. Tom stood in the doorway.

"You gutless son of a whoring bitch! How dare you touch him!" She shrieked, her wand was out of it's holster in a flash and a curse flying at the dark haired teen in the door frame. He countered the curse with a casual flick of his wand.

"You don't want to do this."

"Like hell I don't." She cast another spell.

"Protego." The shield held firm. "I would think a good sister like you would want to take care of her brother."

"Reducto." The shield held. "Confringo." It remained.

"Reilly, if you don't stop this nonsense, you aren't going to be in any condition to help your brother."

"He's not in any condition to help, you bastard!"

"He's not dead, Reilly." He smiled that casual, careless smile. "I did tell you he wouldn't be." She glanced for a moment at the prone figure. "Leash your temper and tend to your brother. I'll see you in the library when you've finished." He left her there, kneeling on the steps and crying, swearing, and frantically casting healing charms.

It was several hours before she made her way to the library. "I hate you." She barely whispered the words, but he heard them clearly.

"Do you?" He asked mildly, setting his book down. "Sit down, Reilly." He motioned to the chair across from him. She sat, glaring daggers. Her hair was escaping it's tie and there was blood on her hands. "I assume you have an angry outburst for me?"

"Go to hell." She said softly. "I'm magically exhausted from the healing and you know it." He raised his eyebrows. "And I find emotion to be quite exhausting."

"And yet you came."

"You didn't exactly give me a choice."

"Didn't I?"

"Not much of one."

"No. I suppose not." He admitted. "Come along, Reilly." He stood and offered his arm.

"Where are we going?" He raised his eyebrows and she sighed and laced her arm through his, allowing him to lead her back to his rooms.

"Riddle?" She asked, apprehension in her voice.

"Go wash up." She moved to leave and he grasped her arm, pushing her towards the bathroom adjacent to his room.

"I-" She swallowed, stepped into the bathroom and turned back to him. "I can't."

"Why not?" Her lips narrowed and she closed her eyes.

"Because that's the bath my mother nearly drowned me in." He placed his hands on her upper arms and walked her slowly towards the water.

"You're going to be fine." Her eyes were open and full of doubt. "Sit down." He sat with her, an arm across her shoulder, and coaxed her feet into the water. "You're fine, Reilly. You're safe." He pulled her further into the water, sliding until she was waist deep, his hands rubbed up and down her arms.

"I don't know why you think I'm likely to feel safe with you." She said, softly. Her eyes were wide and she watched the water. It was warm and he stood behind her, his hands on her arms, his body flush with hers.

"But you do." It wasn't a question. He sat on the inner ledge of the pool, pulling her back with him so that she was sitting atop him. He summoned the soap to him and began to wash the blood from her skin.

She rested against him, her eyes still too wide, her muscles still impossibly tense. "Default, I think." She said softly.

"Hmm?"

"Talk to me. About anything. I don't care. I just-" She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, brushing her hair across his face as she did so. "-I can't take the silence in here."

"Why did your mother try to drown you?" She flinched.

"I ran away from home."

"Why?" She laughed.

"Do you see the scar on my arm?" She traced his fingers to the back of her upper arm, just below the shoulder. There was a jagged silvery scar. "That's from my mother's embroidery scissors." She gave a bitter laugh. "If you've seen a set, that will put that into better perspective for you. They were very small scissors and she kept them rather sharp."

"That all?"

"Of course not. But it's the only scar visible in what I'm wearing, and I've no need to show you the others." She shrugged. "Besides, crucio leaves no scar."

"They used that on a child?"

"It's not that uncommon. They also kept me locked in that large trunk in the sitting room, the one with the fancy rug on it."

"That isn't a large trunk."

"No. It's not." She said, voice soft. "My parents weren't the best." She shrugged. "But I have Abraxas and his parents now. So it's better."

He was careful when he brought her out of the water, and she still stared at the water with wide eyes. He handed her a towel. "Candice?" The elf popped into existence.

"Yes, what is Miss Reilly's guest needing?"

"Could you fetch one of Reilly's robes?"

"Of course." The elf popped out. He dried Reilly's hair with a towel as best he could, she looked at the towel in her hands, as though she was unsure what to do with it.

"Here is." The little elf hung the robe on one of the hooks in the wall. "Is there anything else Miss Reilly is needing?"

"Can you help her get dry and dressed?"

"Yes, Candice can help when Miss Reilly's guest is not in the room."

"Of course." He grabbed a towel of his own and headed into the bedroom. After he'd changed into dry clothing, he sat on the bed, waiting for an indication that Reilly was dressed.

In a few minutes, she stood in the door, her eyes were still to wide, and she stood incredibly still. "Come here." He told her, and she walked slowly towards him. He motioned for her to sit beside him and she did.

He slid behind her and carefully untied her hair, redoing it into a careful braid. "I don't understand, Tom."

"What don't you understand?" He asked, his fingers ghosting across her neck as he worked with her hair.

"This. You. Take your pick."

"I want you to trust me, Reilly."

"How can I?"

"I kept my word, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to hurt you." She laughed. "Not much, anyway."

"Oh?" There was a hint of laughter in her voice.

"I think you know exactly what I want to do to you, Reilly. I think you know exactly how I want to hurt you." There was a dark promise in his words.

"I might." She admitted. "But I don't know if I can deal with that. I-" She shook her head. "I don't know how much I can live with."

"I think you'll find that there is a lot you can live with." He said, as he finished tying her braid. "Stay with me tonight."

"Tom, I-"

"Just sleep. That's all. Just sleep beside me."

"I-I don't know."

"What are you afraid of?"

"You."

"I won't hurt you."

"All right." She stood, and he followed. He lifted the blankets, and motioned for her to climb under them. She eyed him carefully as she did so, pulling the blankets up to her chin as he moved to the other side of the bed and slipped in beside her.

She shivered as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. But he twined his fingers with hers and traced soothing designs on her palm.

He hummed softly, and finally began to sing softly, and she relaxed against him.

"From weaves of ghostly spider silk,

And waves of crystal sky,

Are enchanted dreamers made.

What a thing to live in dreams,

To live an illusion lie.

A garden of glistening sunbeams

In a castle in the sky.

From weaves of ghostly spider silk,

And waves of crystal sky,

Are enchanted dreamers made.

A world of poison ever sweet,

Lost in spellbinding dreams.

The forgotten strangers that we never meet.

All is not as it seems.

From weaves of ghostly spider silk,

And waves of crystal sky,

Are enchanted dreamers made.

Pleasant loss of grounded Earth

Reality in Dearth.

Poison sweetest to the taste,

To live a life in frozen Dreams.

To live a life to waste.

From weaves of ghostly spider silk,

And waves of crystal sky,

Are enchanted dreamers made.

To live a life in frozen Dreams;

Poison sweetest to the taste."

She was asleep in his arms before he hit the final note. And in the weeks that followed, Tom found himself learning more about the young and haunted seer, who lived in the silent manor on the hillside. He began to see just what an asset Reilly Dawning might be.

* * *

Sweetheart, if you want to be unhelpful and nasty, you really aren't obligated to review. You aren't obligated to like it, but you could at least have the courtesy to be constructive in your commentary. Otherwise, kindly desist in wasting your time here. Of course, this little note wouldn't be located here if you'd bothered to log in so that people could actually respond to your vitriol.


	2. Chapter 2

Kings Cross Station

"We'll be going then." She allowed her brother to take her arm.

"Afraid to be seen with me in public, Dawning?"

"Something like that." She agreed with a smile.

"Later, Riddle." Said Abraxas. Things remained tense between the two young men, for the obvious reasons.

They had not managed to leave before Olive Hornby swept up to them in all her dramatic glory. "Dawning, what are you doing with Tom?"

"Leaving, obviously."

"I don't know what-"

"Shut up." And Olive did, absolutely shocked. "Your voice is grating." Reilly informed her casually, and with that, she did leave.

"Reilly, that was a bit...harsh, don't you think?" Abraxas asked, mildly. "Not that I mind." He added, shrugging.

"Olive Hornby is an irritating...well, you know what I think of her." She shrugged, "And her voice _is_ grating, her behavior is disgusting, and I find her company rather revolting."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact she's always simpering over Tom Riddle, would it?"

"They can both go to hell, for all I care, Abraxas." She said as they slid into an empty compartment.

"Reilly," He sighed, "I don't know why you care, but for what it's worth, Riddle's an idiot if he looks at her over you."

"I told you. I don't care."

"If you say so." He said. "Your _friends_ are here, so I'm off."

"Don't be unkind, Abraxas. It's only natural that I befriend the other girls in ravenclaw. There aren't terribly many of us, you know."

"Drop the act, Reilly. I don't need it."

"I wouldn't pull it if I thought you'd believe it." She muttered.

"No. Maybe not. But I don't need it. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't pull that on me. You've always trusted me."

"I-Of course I trust you, I'll always trust you."

"It's Riddle's fault you know."

"Abraxas-"

"No. It's fine, I'll live with it and I'll keep my head down. But don't pretend he's good for you." She didn't say anything as he left and the girls slipped past him into the compartment.

"I don't think he likes me very much. He isn't very nice." Myrtle sniffed, her blue eyes wide, outlined in dramatic blue.

"Abraxas is nice when it suits him." Reilly said mildly.

"Hmm. I'll take your word for it, as he _is _your brother."

"You'd best." There was something in her voice that told the girl to quit the subject.

"They're saying you and Abraxas arrived with Riddle. Is it true?" Reilly raised her eyebrows in a silent question. "Well, is it?"

"My brother and Riddle are friends."

"So it is, then."

"I told you it was, Aster. I told you. I saw them talking. Seemed very friendly."

"Has the world turned odd during the summer, Aster?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone seem so terribly preoccupied with Riddle, I find it rather strange."

"You tell me. What were you doing with him anyway?" Reilly shrugged.

"Having a discussion."

"Reilly, you don't discuss things with Tom Riddle, Nobody discusses things with Tom Riddle." Aster was pale, with dark hair that accentuated her pallor, and a way of speaking with dramatic flourishes.

"There's a first for everything."

"I'm not buying it."

"Than what, pray tell me, do you suppose it was?"

"I think there's something between them." Myrtle chimed in.

"Perhaps, if you stop worrying about it, you'll stop coming to the wrong conclusions. I think the both of you are emotionally compromised."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Aster asked indignantly.

"Why do the two of you expect me to be...shall we say, attracted, to Tom Riddle?" She asked, "And on that note, why is _everyone_ attracted to him? Honestly!" The other two girls giggled and Reilly rolled her eyes dramatically. "Anyway," Reilly said, "What were the two of you up to this summer?"

"Nothing so interesting as you apparently." Aster said, "Since yours seems to have involved Tom Riddle."

"If you're still going on about that..."

"Then what?"

"Then stop because he's seeing Olive Hornby. Clearly his taste is eminently flawed, but far be it from me to say anything on other people's business." It was the other girls' turn to roll their eyes.

"So what is her deal, anyway?"

"Hornby has issues of her own making." Reilly said, "I'd feel sorry for her if she wasn't so dangerous."

"Reilly, she's not-"

"Myrtle, that hex could have really hurt you. Just because they haven't injured anyone yet doesn't mean they won't. You know they've been getting worse."

"Riddle would stop them from going to far though." Aster said firmly.

"Maybe." Reilly said, shrugging. "I don't know." She wasn't sure he wouldn't cause it.

* * *

"Professor Beery is going to direct a play." The news hummed around the school and signs telling those interested to meet in the library after classes were posted around the school.

"Right," The Professor beamed down at the students happily, it was common knowledge that his life's ambition was to direct plays. "We're going to be preforming the Fountain of Fair Fortune for Yule this year."

"What's that?" Myrtle asked Reilly who was sprawled on one of the tables in the crowded room.

"Three witches and a muggle man are trying to reach the Fountain of Fair Fortune, and they have to reach it by sundown. They all have problems they need fixed; Asha was incurably sick, Altheda had lost her powers, Amata was heartbroken, the muggle was a knight -Sir Luckless, which should tell you what his problem was." Everyone fell into a hushed silence as Reilly spoke.

"Anyway they're faced with three challenges: A worm -Asha defeats it by crying on it, An unending Slope -Altheda sweats on it, A deep river -Amata gives it the memories of her lover. Then when they reach the fountain, they have to decide who will bath in it, it ends up being the Knight, who falls in love with Amata. But the fountain isn't actually enchanted." She shrugged, "I'll give you the long version later."

"Thank you for refreshing everyone's memory, Miss Dawning." Professor Beery smiled, "So as you heard, we will need: Asha, Altheda, Amata, Sir Luckless and extras. Volunteers to be Asha? Ah, Miss Dawning, wonderful." She hadn't actually put her hand up.

"Altheda?" He looked around, "Miss Rosier, excellent." He clapped his hands together in excitement. "Amata?" He asked, "Miss Hornby," He nodded to her. "Mr. Riddle, would you be our Sir Luckless? Wonderful, simply wonderful..."

* * *

"Dawning-" Riddle caught up with her when she was leaving the library. "A word." She sighed as he fell in place next to her.

"What do you want, Riddle?"

"I was wondering if you might have the time to tell me about that story, The Fountain of...what was it? Fair Fortune?"

"Walk me to my room, I've a book you want to borrow." She told him, her lips lifted in a half smile, "And you owe me one."

"I owe you a lot, Reilly." He remarked, "I've found many of your books to be most illuminating." He had. It had been a pleasure to have the time to begin going through the books that could be found in the library of one of the old families. Not all of them legal, of course.

"I'm not surprised." She said as they reached a tapestry of a knight, who fell over upon seeing them. Reilly looked from the knight to Tom and grinned. "Well, you have an example." She observed, walking up to the tapestry.

"Good Sir and Gentle Lady I do not believe I have made your acquaintance." The knight said, attempting to right himself.

"Stifle it, you know darn well who I am." She said, exasperated. "Sir Cadogan, open up immediately!" He did so, tripping again.

"Lady, I object to your-" She rolled her eyes as Sir Cadogan continued to rant.

"Wait here a moment." She disappeared inside and reappeared moments later with an old book. "Tales of Beadle the Bard." She identified it. "Wizarding fairytales, you might find it...illuminating." She handed it to him and closed the tapestry in front of him.

* * *

"I don't understand how exactly you expect me to cry into the mouth of an ashwinder!" Reilly's voice was forced calm.

"I can make you cry if you'd like." Olive Hornby offered.

"I'll pass." Reilly said, not really paying attention. "Professor Kettleburn, could you possibly have thought of anything less suitable?"

"It could have been a basilisk."

"Trust the Slytherin to know about snakes." She muttered, "Thank you ever so much for the helpful input, Riddle." Her tone could have cut glass. "We could use an illusion, didn't anyone think of that?"

"Miss Dawning, we've been over this before." Professor Beery said.

"Dawning, shut up." Riddle hissed into her ear, taking her arm and pulling her away from people. "You need to be quieter, for a girl, your behavior is positively outrageous."

"As prejudice as this society is you're lucky you didn't end up being Asha! Boys used to play girls parts in theater."

"Dawning-" He warned, but it was already to late.

"Miss Dawning, you are causing disruptions." The professor said from behind them. "Mr. Riddle, please escort her to the hospital wing and make sure she takes a calming draught."

"Because emotion is irrational." Her voice was bitter and sarcastic.

"And also, please oversee her detention later, when she is feeling more rational." Tom clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Of course Professor." He said smoothly, half dragging her towards the stairs. When they were out of earshot, he spoke. "What were you thinking? Talking like that, Dawning? You know better, you know the role-"

"I'm sorry to have caused you inconvenience." She said quietly. "I'm just..." For a moment it seemed as if she would tell the truth. "Tired."

"Are you ever going to tell me the truth? What the hell is going on, Reilly?"

"No." She shook her head, "No, not unless you've figured it out first." She smiled wryly. "Sometimes I hate this world, you know?" She asked as they walked up the stairs. "The petty drama, the stupid rules, and the limits. I'm brilliant, Tom." Her lips were a thin line. "Everything comes so easy, but I have to keep my mouth shut and act like a simpering moron." She smoothed down her robes."I just don't know if it's worth it."

"You'll feel different in the morning." He assured her.

"I won't." She said flatly. "I'm too weary to lie about it. It is what it is, and everything else be damned."

The healer looked up in surprise when they walked into the hospital wing. "Professor Dippit wants her to have a calming draught." Tom explained. The healer looked her over, Tom kept his hand on her arm, prepared to squeeze it if she opened her mouth.

"It won't help." He decided. "Would you like a sleeping potion?" He asked her.

"Would that help?" Tom asked skeptically, before realizing that the healer didn't have to worry about her keeping anyone else awake.

"It might." The healer said, giving him the potion. "You'll take care of her?" The healer asked. Tom squeezed Reilly's arm warningly and she glared at him.

"I will." He assured the healer. "Relax." He ordered Reilly. He maneuvered her out of the hospital wing, down more corridors and up more flights of stairs.

"I am relaxed." Reilly told him, her voice anything but calm.

"And honest, I'm sure."

"Hey! I am honest." He laughed.

"Then, why don't you _honestly _tell me how two people of magical descent who hated each other would manage to die at the exact same time of the exact same thing."

"Where are you going with this?" Her voice was a good deal quieter, and a great deal more guarded.

"Two people, neither of which were known for using poisons, dying of the same poison, Reilly. I find it a little odd that the Ministry ruled it a double suicide rather than a double murder."

"They didn't rule it as a double suicide, they ruled that they were trying to kill each other, and succeeded. It was common knowledge that they tried to kill each other."

"But it still doesn't make sense." Tom informed her. "And if it was a double murder, who would have more motive than the eleven year old girl that was the person most hurt by her parents."

"What are you saying, Tom?"

"You know what I'm saying, Reilly."

"I was at Hogwarts, Tom." She reminded him, "They told me the morning of our first actual day of class."

"You didn't seem surprised."

"My parents were always trying to kill each other, they were bound to succeed eventually." They were at Sir Cadogan's portrait, though he wasn't there. Reilly pointed her wand at the portrait and it opened. "Thank you for escorting me." She tried to close it, but he stopped her.

"What do you think you're doing? I told the healer I'd look after you."

"And you have." She replied evenly, still trying to shut the portrait on him.

"You'd better invite me in, Reilly. I'm not leaving."

"Fine!" She said, exasperated, "Come in." She stalked over to her bed and sat down, glaring at him as he let himself in and closed the portrait. "You have no sense of propriety."

He sat down on the other side of her bed. "You ever think you were better off without parents?" She asked him. "No? I didn't think so." She said calmly, "Most people don't think that, and most times their right. I wouldn't have been."

"Were they so awful?"

"You've heard the rumors I'm sure. I know people talk, nobody ever says it to my face, well, no one except Olive Hornby." She shrugged. "I don't know if the rumors do them justice, but I hardly ever wake up screaming when I dream about the future." She sighed and lay back. "On a side note, your girlfriend isn't going to be happy when she finds out you've been here."

"Who's going to tell her?"

"She's not an idiot, you did leave practice with me, and less than a week till performance, too.."

"That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said about her."

"And don't even think about mentioning it to her." Reilly said darkly.

"Why do you have such a problem with her anyway?"

"We...disagree on a number of points, such as harassing the members of my house who have no self-esteem or backbone. I get to deal with the consequences, so I'm not especially keen on her doing it."

"Is that all?" He asked with a tone of surprise. "It's just that I've never heard you be as nasty to anyone else as you are to her." There was a long silence and Tom thought she wouldn't answer the question.

"I think, in some ways, it would be better if you actually cared about her."

"What makes you think I don't?" She laughed.

"I know you, Tom. Anyway, I don't think she's serious about you either, which is a pity, I think an actual relationship would do wonders for her defective personality."

"I could be serious about her."

"Oh really? I didn't think needy was your type." She remarked, "Well, not needy and clingy at any rate."

"Why don't you take the sleeping potion Reilly?" He suggested finally.

"I'll pass."

"_Imperio_." He pointed his wand at her and she sat up and took the potion from his hands. She moved to bring the potion to her lips, but halted, her hands shaking as she fought the spell.

"You know what I'm capable of, Tom." She whispered, fury in her eyes.

"But do you know what I am capable of?" He asked her, voice quiet, slowly forcing the bottle up to her lips.

"Oh yes." She said softly, then she broke the imperio with a jerk and drank deeply. "I know exactly what you are capable of, Tom Riddle." She informed him as she fell back, the bottle toppling from her fingers. As he set the bottle on her nightstand, he wondered exactly what the future she dreamed of held.

He considered going back to his common room, but decided that embarrassing Reilly would be more interesting. He settled down in bed next to her and reread the first story in Tales of Beadle the Bard.

* * *

Olive Hornby was livid, of course, she couldn't prove that her boyfriend had been with Reilly Dawning, but that meant very little to Olive Hornby. "Stop trying to steal my boyfriend." Olive demanded of the girl as Reilly climbed sleepily down the stairs towards the great hall. "You stupid little whore."

"You have no idea how not interested I am." There was something very believable in the way Reilly said it. "You could do better." She said sincerely, and walked over to the Ravenclaw table leaving Olive Hornby very confused, and everyone in earshot absolutely shocked. In Hogwarts, it was accepted knowledge that Tom Riddle was the best a girl could do.

When Reilly Dawning walked into her first class, she was greeted by Tom Riddle. "Did you sleep well?" He asked, his eyes betraying amusement.

"Like a dream." She said, and handed him a potion bottle. "I've no doubt you've better use for this than I." She informed him as she went to her seat, leaving him with a bottle of sleeping potion to hastily disappear before class began.

He caught her after class. "You have a detention to serve with me." He reminded her. "Tonight, eight, Dungeon three."

"Not going to be there." She informed him, and kept walking.

"You don't get to choose that."

"I know. But I suggest you bring something else to do, because I am not going to be there." She insisted.

"Dawning, you can't just skip out on detention."

"If you say so it must be true." She said agreeably. "Enjoy yourself, by yourself."

* * *

True to her word, Reilly Dawning did not show up. She missed her only afternoon class, detention with him, and astronomy that evening. She missed the first class of the next morning. "Where were you?" He asked her sharply, catching her as she entered the great hall at lunch.

"Ill."

"You just decided to schedule that?" She laughed.

"I'm not the one who does the scheduling." She assured him, remarkably cheerful. "But I appreciate your concern."

"You're not getting out of detention."

"Wouldn't dream of it." She informed him, still smiling. "I'd hate to be a bad example since I'm a perfect prefect."

"Did someone use a cheering charm on you?"

"Why yes, as a matter of fact, they did. Why do you ask?" He shook his head and walked away, hoping it would wear off before he had to deal with her again.

* * *

By the time class was done and Reilly was back in her bedroom for the evening, the charm had worn off and she was vividly remembering that punishment methods as Hogwarts were still very archaic and Tom Riddle was very creative. She sighed and poured herself into a book on divination.

There was a knock on her portrait outside(followed by a crash as Sir Cadogan was knocked over), so setting the book down, she went to see who it was. "Good Evening, Tom." She said, notably less chipper.

"I'm glad to see that charm wore off." He said. "May I come in?"

"Why bother asking? You're going to anyway." She muttered as she got out of the way so he could come in.

"Manners are an art form."

"What brings you here at this hour, Tom?"

"You do still have a detention to make up. Since you were ill, I shall not give you another for skipping the first one. Though someone else might have suspected you of lying..."

"Get to the point." She sat down and opened her book.

"I was wondering, Reilly, where you were." She remained steely calm.

"In the forest under the full moon collecting flowers." She flipped the page. "What business is it of yours?"

"Considering your history, it's prudent to know what you're doing." She continued reading or rather, ignoring him, until he took the book from her hands and set it aside. "You still have a detention, Reilly."

"What will you do with me then, Tom?" She asked, "I think you'll find my bedroom has a shortage of torture equipment." He chuckled.

"For a witch, you spend quite a bit of time ignoring magic as an option." He remarked, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"It's against school rules, not that you care." She remarked.

"You have such a poor opinion of me." He said, "I'm hurt." He didn't bother to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

"You invite it." She knew that annoying him was not the best of all possible moves, but keeping her mouth shut was not always one of Reilly's strengths.

"You present an interesting problem, Reilly. How do you hurt a witch who has already been through so much pain? How can you frighten her when she's already faced her fears?"

"I have full faith in your creativity." He smiled.

"I'm not sure what to do with you, Reilly."

"Yes you are, Tom. You knew what you were going to do before you came here, you may as well get on with it." Her voice was weary and resigned.

"If you insist." His smile sent chills down her spine. "Come here, Reilly." Her eyes were wary as she got out of her chair and walked towards him. She stopped a few feet away from him. "Reilly." His tone was scolding.

His wand pointed at her, she glared as she stepped closer to him. "Not alright." She informed him as she stopped bare inches from him.

"It's more fun this way." He said as he sat down on her bed.

"It's not supposed to be fun, Tom." She said as she straddled him, her body moving even as she fought to halt it.

"Then let's begin." His arms wrapped around her, his wand brushed her back ever so lightly and blood blossomed along the line he drew. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out in pain. Her body automatically moved away from his wand, which meant she pressed herself closer to him.

Another line, and another, Reilly lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her eyes were tearing, her nails dug into the skin of his shoulder. "You're enjoying this far too much." She observed quietly, trying to keep her voice from breaking with the pain.

She wasn't sure how long she lay in his arms before she realized he had stopped hurting her. "You screwed up my shirt." She muttered.

"Are you a witch or not?" She pulled away and looked at him.

"Even magic has limits and getting blood out of white fabric is one of them." She shivered slightly, her clothes offering little protection against the chill.

He climbed out from under her and went to her trunk. "Lay down." He instructed. She watched him warily, but did as he said.

"What are you doing?"

"Wound cleansing potion," He waved the bottle for her to see, "Murtlap essence."

"Glad to see you learned something." She muttered, then swore as the stinging potion made contact with her skin. "Those had better not scar." He laughed.

"They won't." He promised. His lips hovered mere inches from her skin and his breathe sent visible shivers down her spine.

"Tom, do us both a favor and leave."

"What makes you think we're done?"

"We are." Her voice was firm. "Everyone has limits Tom and it would be best not to reach mine."

"Threats Reilly?" His voice was amused.

"No, not threats Tom." She closed her eyes, feeling the weary blanket of heavy sleep threaten to overwhelm her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"I'm aware of that. We're also performing the play that evening, in case you've forgotten."

"I'll see you before then." It was half promise, half warning.

"I dare say you will."

"Sleep well, Reilly." He wasn't sure she was awake to hear him.


	3. Chapter 3

He found her in the library, in an alcove in the back and silently stood behind her, reading over her shoulder. "Poisons, Reilly?" He inquired softly. "What put you to researching this?" She smiled, a forced smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"Guess." That smile and that subject were enough to make him wonder if he really had pushed her too far. He could guess what Reilly Dawning's last resort was, and it looked as if she might be turning to it.

"Should I be worried?"

"Not yet." She admitted, setting the book aside, "When you find me mixing one, yes." He believed her.

"I'll keep that in mind." He said, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

"Why do you care?" He gave her his most innocent look.

"Can I not inquire as to your health without suspicion?"

"Anyone else could."

"So I am special to you then."

"Oh yes." She traced the engraved cover of the book on poisons. "Very few people have given me cause for such emotions."

"Planning on that confession yet?"

"I have no doubt your sins are as many as mine."

"What would you know of it?" She laughed and touched her fingers to her eyelids. "Do you dream of me often?" He tilted her chin upwards, forcing her eyes to meet his. "Meet the future with me, Reilly. We could go far together." She looked at him with full seriousness in her eyes.

There were a hundred things she might have said to him, a thousand truths she might have told. Reilly Dawning smiled. "If you're asking me out, the answer is absolutely, unequivocally, no."

"A formal courtship then?" There was mischief in his dark eyes.

"Absolutely," She spoke slowly as if she were explaining it to a simple child, "Unequivocally, no." She informed him, and gathering her books together she strode purposefully out of the library. His cold laugh echoing behind her.

That Tom Riddle would eventually set his eyes on Reilly Dawning was a commonly accepted fact, and the only two who were unaware of this were the two of them (with the possible exception of several of his former girlfriends). No, if a girl could do no better in Hogwarts then Tom Riddle, a boy could do no better than Reilly Dawning. That said, it was all over the school in a matter of instants that Tom Riddle was (finally) courting Reilly Dawning.

Reilly Dawning had no love of cat and mouse games, and less desire to play them with one Tom Marvalo Riddle. However, for the moment at least, Tom Riddle was the least of her problems.

"Is everyone here? Are the props in place? Merlin's beard is that an ashwinder, Silvanus? What could possibly have possessed you to-?" At that instant the curtain went up and people scrambled to positions.

"High on an enchanted hill was the fountain of fair fortune-" Said the narrator, visibly shaking from nerves as Professor Dumbledore cast the illusion of a fountain on a hill. "In an enchanted garden, protected by strong magic. Once a year on Midsummer a single unfortunate was given the chance to fight their way to the fountain, bath in it's waters and receive Fair Fortune Forever." He finished his line with a flourish that nearly toppled him from the impromtu stage. "This Midsummer's day finds us outside the enchanted garden."

"I am Asha, sick with a malady that no healer may cure. I hope that the fountain might cure me and grant me a long and happy life." Reilly said, trying to look sick.

"I am Altheda, and I have been robbed of home, gold and wand by and evil sorcerer. It is my hope that the fountain will save me from powerlessness and poverty."

"I am Amata, and I have been deserted by my love. I hope that the fountain might relieve me of my grief and longing." Said Olive, glaring at Reilly.

"Let us unite and try to reach the fountain together." Reilly said glaring back.

"Surely the chances of three are better than those of one."

"We will decide who may bath when we get there." Olive said, still glaring fiercely. The illusion was cast so that the garden wall appeared to open and creepers (-That looks like Devil's Snare!) came out and grabbed Reilly, who was grabbed onto by Druella, who was grasped by Olive who was tangled with Tom Riddle.

"What have you done!" Reilly asked as the wall and people moved off stage so the audience could focus on the four of them. Druella was beating at the vine as it had not let go of her. "It will be hard enough to decide with three of us, and now there is a fourth!"

"Only one may bathe in the fountain." Druella somberly reminded them as she finished kicking the remains of the plant off stage.

"I will leave then." Tom declared.

"Faint Heart!" Olive scolded. "Draw your sword and help us reach our goal." Tom drew his sword and tripped over it, attempted to stand and had his vizor overbalance and struggled not to fall over again.

At that moment the four would have marched across the stage, however the giant 'worm' from the story had taken that instant to come out. In a desperate attempt to salvage the play someone cast a spell to set out the words that went with the worm.

'Pay me the Proof of your Pain', however the glowing words seemed to incite the 'worm' and it exploded, laying fiery eggs that began to burn the fake stage. The great hall began to fill with smoke.

"This is all your fault!" Olive shouted and Reilly.

"Excuse me!" Reilly shouted back, both girls ignored the growing flames.

"Don't you think-"

"Shut up." They both yelled at Tom, then drawing her wand, Olive shot the first spell she could think of at Reilly.

"Engorgio!" The spell missed Reilly completely, instead striking the head of their unfortunate director, Professor Beery.

"Expelliarmus!" Reilly responded, Olive dodged.

"Deprimo," Tom was forced to lunge out of the way of the spell, tripping in the oversized clunky armor as a section of the stage blew up.

"Tarantallegra!" Both of the girls were intently focused on one another as the flames roared around them and people scampered to get out of the burning hall.

"Confringo!"

"Do you have a thing for fire?" Reilly asked, quickly creating water to counter Olive's spell. As the flames surrounded both girls and it looked to all as if their was no way either would come out, Reilly cast her spell. "Obliviate."

At that instant someone managed to put out the flames as Olive looked around with a rather perplexed look. "Never again!" Professor Dippit roared. "Do you hear me, Herbert Beery? Never again!" The giant head that was all anyone could really see of Professor Beery tried to nod in response.

"And you! Silvanus Kettleburn! You are on probation!" He thundered. "Detention for-" He stopped for a moment to look around, "-All of our major actors, Miss Hornby?"

"Is it really the sky?" She asked, looking up at the ceiling, "If it isn't, it's surely marvelous magic, sir."

"Saint Mungos, Albus? You will see to it?" Professor Dumbledore nodded and gently took the girl's arm and led her away.

"You're burned." Tom told her quietly.

"Hmm?"

"You've got mild burns." Tom informed her.

"Oh, do I?" She asked, distractedly. "So I do." She agreed as she looked down at herself. He carefully healed her injuries. "Thank you." She said softly, then smiled. "Sympathizing with Sir Cadogen yet?"

"Whoever painted him in armor hated him." Tom said firmly. "But what of you, Reilly? Have you decided on a career in acting?" She laughed, a little hysterically.

"Definitely not." She shook her head as they left the rubble that had previously been the Great Hall. "Well, it could have been worse."

By the end of the Christmas holidays Saint Mungo's healers had managed to restore most of Olive Hornby's memory, and while Reilly claimed to be delighted by this fact, there were many who suspected otherwise.

Professor Beery returned to Hogwarts a few days after the term began, with his head returned to what appeared to be normal size, though there were several students who held that it had been, perhaps a little, larger before.

The Great Hall would smell faintly of woodsmoke for the next few months and it would be longer before Professor Kettleburn was taken off probation.

**1****st**** January, 1943**

It was a small diary, bound in black, purchased on Vauxhall Road. Reilly took up her quill and printed in neat, elegant script the name '_T.M. Riddle' _in the front cover.

_Tom,_

_I'm not sure why I'm writing this, I suppose because I want to leave you something of me, after I am gone. I'm writing in 'January' though in truth, it is yet December, Christmas break actually. I bought this ages ago, and I suppose you will wonder what business I had on Vauxhall road. No matter, if it was any of yours then you would surely know it by now. _

_I shouldn't have to tell you that if you are reading this, I am dead. Because you are reading and I am. That said, I should hope you won't worry to much about it, regardless of the circumstances, as I have known and been expecting it. I have known for some time, and so I have made a point to live with few regrets._

"You stupid slut, what is it that he sees in you?" Olive caught her alone as she was leaving the library. Her voice was hot with anger.

"I'm not, you know." Reilly kept her voice soft, gentle, but she could not keep the cold of her rage from it. She would have been horrified by the striking resemblance to Riddle. "But I won't hold it against you, you're foolish enough to be obsessed with him."

"Aren't you?" Reilly's anger was brushed slightly away, for Olive sounded so young, and so very lost. "Isn't everyone?" Reilly laughed at Olive's question.

"I am. But I know exactly how foolish I'm being. I don't think you do."

"What makes you so clever, how do you know so much? What is it that he sees in you? I'm prettier, I more obedient, I don't understand." And Reilly realizes that Olive cannot understand, she is not capable of it.

"Yes. You are quite pretty and I don't doubt that you are obedient. But that is it, isn't it, Olive? It's the challenge. I'm dangerous, and you're safe and familiar. You're obedient and submissive and I am anything but."

"He's not like other guys." But there was a lingering hesitation in her words, and she looked to Reilly expectantly, waiting for answers.

"Sure he is. Everyone loves a challenge, right? He more than most."

"He's not. He's not like anyone else in this world."

"No. He's not. But he has a lot in common with a firestorm. Neat, pretty, enchanting almost, but if you get too close..."

"You love him."

"Don't you?" And Reilly smiled, but sorrow lingered in her eyes.

**5****th**** January, 1943**

_Tom,_

_You asked me once for a confession, and now I think it is proper that you shall have it. It was two parts 'Draught of Living Death' and the remainder the 'Draught of Peace' which together bring a slumber that is both peaceful and eternal. It no challenge to brew it, for who might suspect such things? While they were well beyond my age and education, the ingredients and instructions were both easy to come by, and I had plenty of time to perfect my brewing. Again, it was no trouble, for me to go into the kitchen and slip my concoction into the cake they had gotten. They had ordered it, much to the distaste of the elves, so I knew that it would be they who ate it and I would not risk the house elves of whom I was more fond. I left for Hogwarts the next morning, and in truth they were dead by night fall. I do not regret what I have done, only that it was necessary. _

_Do you ever wonder who we might have been if such things were not necessary? I am indeed my parents' daughter, for they made me who I am. I will not claim to be a good person, but there are evils that I will not commit. It is evil to harm a child. But you knew that. Of course you knew._

**20****th**** January, 1943**

They sat in the library, for all appearances studying. "I want to change the world."

"Then the world shall change."

"You say that as though it is certain."

"Oh, it is. But how it shall change, that remains a question." He could see her smile was forced, though she did not meet his gaze. "The ministry-"

"Are paper-pushing idiots."

"Well, yes." She admitted.

"They haven't done anything about Grindewald."

"I am quite certain that such things are well beyond our government's capabilities." She admitted with a shrug. "But it is not yet our battle."

"Do you suppose it will be?"

"It's our future. How then will you change the world, Tom? If not through our government? I'm sure you could get elected, Slughorn'd be happy to help." He rolled his eyes.

"Politics are disgusting."

_Tom, _

_I know the way you rearrange your name on your paper when you think no one is watching. I know those brief instances when your calculations are written on your face. I know you use your beauty to enchant people in a way that has nothing to do with magic. _

_I know that you like challenges, and that you like power. I think you resent those of us who seem to come to everything: wealth, influence, power. I think you wish to prove how much better than us you are. I don't know what more you have to prove, honestly. Even without the background, you've always been better. They're drawn to that, like a flower to sunlight, if you'll forgive the analogy. _

_I know that I understand very little about you, and that I want to understand more. I know you do not like to be understood. Do you understand yourself, Tom? I hope so. _

**3****rd**** February, 1943**

"Reilly," He said smoothly, though he was nervous and more easily read than she had ever known him to be.

"I won't ask." She said, forcing herself to keep a straight face, knowing well the insult it would be to laugh. "It really isn't any of my business." He gave her a nod, more grateful perhaps than she realized, as he walked away from her and out of the Girl's Lavatory.

_Tom,_

_I won't ask. Not because it is none of my business, though that is true enough, but because I don't need to. And maybe you know that, too. You've always better at reading me than I, you. I try not to allow myself to be frightened by the things you do, and are involved in, but some days it is harder than others. Just, one question, Tom. Just one. Isn't that snake a little big, even for you?_

**19****th**** March, 1943**

"I asked you a question, Dawning."

"Oh, so it's Dawning now?"

"Reilly," There was quiet venom in his voice, "I want answers. You've been avoiding me."

"I've developed a sense of self preservation." He laughed.

"Give me an actual answer, Reilly."

"Saw some things I'm not comfortable with." She shrugged. "I'll make my peace."

"Tell me." He demanded, voice soft. She bit her lip and shook her head, not daring to meet his eyes. "Reilly," There was that gentle warning. Her head continued to shake. "Incarcerous." He breathed.

Her eyes met his, blazing with fury for an instant, before she looked away. She was bound tightly to her chair, and she watched as he cast a silencing spell and a notice-me-not charm.

"It would be a shame to have to hurt you, Reilly." He traced his wand along her jaw in a mockery of a caress. She did not meet his eyes.

"It's arbitrary. Pointless. Your knowing won't make any difference."

"Then why not tell me?"

"Because I'd prefer not to encourage you to make me uncomfortable."

"Is that so, Reilly?" His wand traced down her neck and along her collar bone to her shoulder. "And how exactly do you expect me to do that?" She shook her head. "It can't be a torture curse, I've used those before." He remarked thoughtfully.

It was wordless, the spell he cast, that created what felt like a localized ice storm on the tip of his wand. It was so cold it felt as though her skin burned where it touched her. His wand traced designs on her skin almost absently.

"Uncomfortable, embarrassed, I think." Then he smiled darkly. "You were quite flustered when I asked you to accompany to Slughorn's party." She studied the wall over his shoulder rather intently, and a small whimper of pain escaped her lips as his wand traced along her neck. "That's it, isn't it? I've been giving you time to come to terms with my courtship and you're bothered because that time is going to end."

She paled. "You can't possibly be serious." She hissed.

"Can't I?" He asked, smiling as he lifted his wand from her skin.

"You aren't serious. You haven't courted anyone." He shrugged.

"No one's been worth it."

"Exactly." She snapped. "And if the rumors are to be believed, and there are enough that I expect some of them are-"

"It's sweet that you keep track of my partners, darling."

"Go to hell, Riddle."

"Only if you'll accompany me." He smiled as she scowled.

"You're doing this just to screw with my head." She accused. He laughed.

"Darling, if I was going to screw with your head, there are a lot of ways I could do it. I assure you, this isn't the one I'd choose."

"Leave me alone, Riddle."

"I've done that. You've had plenty of time to come to terms with this."

"Leave me alone."

"Not a chance, dearest."

"Don't call me that!"

"You'll accompany me to Slughorn's party tonight. I'll be at your door at seven."

"Go to hell, Riddle."

"That is the general idea, yes." He said with a smile, and despite her irritation, she had to laugh. Tom's humor was something she truly enjoyed.

_Tom,_

_You see it, don't you? I know you must, for I should not be half so interesting if you did not. It would be the easy route, to marry me. I am a pureblood heiress, and it would be a quick way into the high end of pureblood society. Not that I think that would be enough, it would not be enough for you to hold the strings on which the world turns, no, you would have them know it, and you. You would have them respect you, and I cannot give you that. _

_You know that, of course. But you see also my gift, the future that comes to me in visions, and you know that you would have to keep me close for it to be useful. Marriage would save the questions and the scandal, for you have learned to ask me in morning's blurry dawn when things are freshest and pass easily from my lips. I am so much more honest before I am awake._

_I thought for so long you were joking about courting me. I am rather horrified that you are not, more horrified with myself though. I should have realized, and I should not be nearly so pleased as I am. _

**10****th**** April, 1943**

"Reilly, will you do something for me?" Even though she continued to read, her response was a statement of just how far they had come.

"What do you need?"

"Does it matter?" She placed a slip of parchment in the book and closed it, giving him her full attention.

"It determines how much time I need to spend on it, so yes, to me, it matters." He laughed. It wasn't what he meant, but she knew that, and he knew that she did. "Merlin, Tom, don't test me."

"You found my magical family," He began, "Can you find the other half?" She opened the book.

"I did that ages ago, when you first asked me about your family."

"And?" He prompted.

"And it's in my personal files." She seemed to sense his displeasure. "The ones I blood sealed with forbidden magic." She prompted, noticing the change in his mood. It amused her to know that he shared her rather paranoid approach to security. "I suppose you'd like me to open them for you?"

_Tom,_

_I'm going to die. You were so shocked when I said that there was someone better here, that anyone would be better for me. It's true though, you're the only one here that's so dangerous, the only one who will be my death. _

_But no one has ever been this interested in me. No one else has ever seen through my lies. I am as fascinated by you as you are by me. I've seen it, and that look in your eyes. If I was smart I'd run away from you as far and as fast as I could. I'm not, I know that look. I want my life to mean something, to know that I meant something to someone. I know I will have meant something to you. I know you will remember me. That's enough. Enough for me to continue this game, enough for me to set my book of poisons aside. Enough for me to write you these letters for you to read when I am gone. _

_I feel I ought to give you something for your trouble, after all. Besides, in death I offer you something I never could in life; something to look forward to. People like us aren't meant to grow old, Tom. I've tarnished my soul enough in these few years I've had, I shudder to think what you can do, given time._

**20****th**** April, 1943**

_Tom,_

_I wake from nightmares more often now, the same recurring vision as you turn away, as my heart stops. I hate that. Worse then the memories, worse than the blood filled future is that horrible instant. A turning point, if you would, but the point to what? I will never see that future no more than I will face my past again._

They were quite the pair together, because for all appearances they were courting, and quite happy. And the world seemed as though it would hand itself to Tom if he asked it. And she was pretty and smiling and the world turned about her.

In the shadows the blonde watched, sorrow in his eyes, but he said nothing. Still, those who knew him could not miss it.

"Abraxas, you are quiet of late." Riddle asked in that smooth voice of his. There was nothing dangerous in his voice, only a wary question. The blonde laughed.

"I'd give my life for our cause, but this is harder."

"She is not unhappy. And who would you name worthy for a witch such as she?"

"No one, of course." Abraxas answered, "Nothing personal. It might not be so hard if I thought you'd get to keep her. I could handle that."

"What do you mean?" The cold had entered his voice, cold and ice and danger.

"She told me that she saw her death." He said, softly. "I always knew I'd have to give her up to someone who made her happy, and I reckon you're strong enough to take care of her, but neither one of us is going to get to keep her."

"What did she tell you?"

"Not enough. You'll get more from her than I would."

**21****st**** April, 1943**

"Breathe."

"Right." It took all of her concentration to maintain that steady rhythm, inward breath, outward, inward, outward. "Right."

"What did you see?" Her head shook firmly.

"It doesn't matter, Tom. It doesn't matter."

"Reilly!" His was sharp, cold, commanding. Something in her snapped.

"I'm going to die, Tom." She didn't shout, but she might as well have, so clearly as she attained his focus, so much anger as her words contained. "And I'm scared, and it's stupid and I shouldn't be. Because I know, Tom. I've been dreaming about it since I started Hogwarts. It shouldn't scare me anymore. It's not supposed to scare me."

Tom seemed to know his role was not to say anything, only to hold her as she fell apart, and to wait as she pulled herself together.

_Tom,_

_What do you suppose I will find when I wake after that vision becomes reality, after I die? Do you believe in heaven and hell, Tom? I suppose you don't. What about purgatory? I don't know if I do. You know, they say Ghosts are here because they are afraid to go on. I'm not going to be a ghost Tom, I'm not afraid. Death is simply one more adventure, one last one. I will face it unafraid with no regrets._

**13****th**** May, 1943**

Fury, all encompassing rage so complete that he did not halt to berate himself for the emotion, it's cause or it's depth. "No." Her voice was weak, shaky, her eyes half-closed with pain. He knew he would have to calm himself before he could try and heal her. "Anger ill suits you, Tom."

It was a lie, and she knew it before the words left her lips. He was beautiful: even anger, that twisted his familiar face into something unrecognizable, could not truly mar his appearance.

"Do you really think so, Reilly?" He asked more for the distraction her answer would provide than for the knowledge.

"I misspoke. Irrationality ill suits you, and it often comes with anger." She shrugged, or tried to, wincing with pain. "At least mine does."

His frustration would quickly turn inward, irritation that he had been unable to prevent what was, in hindsight, the intuitively obvious. It would be hours later before he would begin to wonder why she hadn't seen it coming.

_Tom,_

_It was really a pain to get away from you to write this. Not that I don't appreciate you looking after me, more than I'd care to admit really. Anyway, I guess you'll figure out that I should have seen it coming. I did. But Tom, it wasn't a fight I could have won without casting dueling spells. I couldn't have won that fight and allowed them to live. Can you imagine? The paperwork would have been horrendous._

_Besides that, they were looking for you, so I had to keep them distracted. I did know you were coming, and if they'd been sensibly standing guard we'd have had the paperwork problem all over again. Anyway, I've known worse pain. I suppose I ought not bring that up, it didn't improve your mood in the least when I mentioned it._

**25****th**** July, 1943**

"You didn't have to wait up." He had intended to come in silently, out of the dark and the storm, but the glimpse of her sitting out upon a balcony had quickly changed his plans.

"I wanted to."

"Outside in the rain?" She laughed.

"I look good this way, don't I?" And she did, red suited her, as did the moisture in her hair and the wind that whirled both dress and hair. "No," And she was suddenly more solemn as she reached a gentle hand out to his arm. "But I wanted to see you."

_Tom,_

_Fresh murder truly leaves no mark upon you? Well, none save the rain. Well, I can't say it left me with any visible scars either. Were we always monsters, or did they make us into monsters? I won't claim to be anything else; I know well the rules of life and death._

* * *

Gentle reader, forgive me my changes. More letters have been added, to tell a truer tale. As ever, thank you for embarking upon this journey.


	4. Chapter 4

"Reilly, now this time, you really have to spill."

"No. No, I really don't."

"Yes, yes you do. This is the second year-"

"Myrtle? What's happened?" Reilly was grateful for the distraction as she offered the girl a tissue.

"It's that dreadful Olive Hornby!" She said, anger displacing tears. "I've got glasses now, Reilly." She said with despair. Reilly looked and saw that Myrtle had indeed gotten glasses.

The girl flung them from her face and they shattered against the wall. Reilly and Aster exchanged a look and without a word, Aster repaired the glasses and handed them to Reilly.

"Was that really necessary?" She asked softly, sliding the glasses onto Myrtle's nose.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that I'm being childish." The girl said, a challenge in her voice.

"Do I need to?" Reilly asked, more amused than anything. "I thought not. Now sit down and let's get you cleaned up." She brushed the hair out of Myrtle's face with businesslike efficiency. "That's better, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Anyway, if it makes you feel better, Myrtle," Aster began with a grin, "Rumor has it that Olive's having short term memory problems, so she may not remember teasing you."

"Not my fault." Reilly muttered, though the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly.

* * *

It was three weeks into the term when the first attack happened. No one knew what spell had been used, no one knew why the boy had been petrified.

Reilly was in the library when she heard about it, fingers tracing the spine of an ancient text, mind debating if she had time to read it. "Dawning, Reilly Dawning!"

"What is it?" She snapped. Reilly normally portrayed all the kindness and patience in the world, but there were some interruptions she was ill inclined to suffer.

"Miss, a student's been attacked!"

"What?" That got her focus, and she spun around to face the first year Ravenclaw. "What happened?"

"They don't know, that's the thing, isn't it? He's petrified."

"Who was it?"

"A Hufflepuff, third year, name of Williamson." The boy said quickly. "All students are supposed to go to their common rooms. They're afraid it has something to do with Grindewald." She nodded.

"Then let's go." She gave the boy a small smile. "Bones, isn't it?" The boy nodded.

"That's right." He said, rather cheerfully.

* * *

Another two weeks passed before the next. "I don't know how well that will work." She said thoughtfully, sipping her juice.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Not really." She admitted. "But straight out asking him doesn't seem wise."

"He'll never admit to it anyway." Tom said with a casual shrug, "And I doubt he'd see any harm in telling me." The entire hall looked up from their breakfast as a resounding scream filled the hall.

There was a moment's stillness when neither face showed surprise. The moment passed and startled horror passed across hers, confusion and worry across his. If either caught the previous moment's slip, they said nothing.

* * *

"No, I won't."

"And why not, pray tell."

"I don't want to." He sighed.

"You're being difficult."

"Yes." She said sharply. "Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"Because I'm falling apart, Tom." She snapped. "Because I'm afraid and it's stupid because I know I shouldn't be."

"And what are you afraid of?" She laughed.

"Dying. What else?" Her laughter was bitter, tinged with despair and self-loathing.

"It's a perfectly reasonable thing to be afraid of, Reilly."

"Everyone dies, Tom." She said softly. "So it's a pointless thing to fear." She smiled slightly, more an offer of assurance than anything. But some offers cannot be accepted, some words cannot be believed.

* * *

He found her in the hospital wing, heard the anger gone cold as ice make it's way into her voice. She was cold, that witch, cold as ice when she was angry. It was one of the things he liked about her.

"The family must be informed Professor Dippet. It is my duty as prefect, to inform them of what has befallen their son."

"Miss Dawning-"

"Yes, I know they're muggles, I assure you that I've had a great deal of trouble over the fact. I spent months teaching him our ways and convincing him to drop this nonsense about introducing muggle customs to our world. I've invested quite a bit of time in that boy and I will not have it wasted."

"Dawning, you're distraught." Riddle remarked from the doorway. "I'll take her off your hands, Professor Dippet, I'm sure a bit of fresh air will calm her down." Her eyes flashed darkly as she allowed him to take her arm and lead her from the wing. "Careful, you have a bit too much personality for them to deal with."

"They can take their delicate sensibilities and go to hell if they find my behavior offensive. I'm a better witch, a better magic user and I am damn well a better person." He laughed. "Okay. Maybe I'm not that last, but I have better standards." He kept laughing. "Shut it." She grumbled.

"You are going to make some unlucky wizard very miserable, Reilly."

"Volunteering?" She asked, and while there was a teasing laughter in her voice, there was a question in her eyes.

"I thought you knew I was."

"I-" She sighed. "I don't know. Guess I'm useful to keep around then."

"Don't be ridiculous." She laughed. "Fine. You have a point. You are useful. You're also pretty, and far to clever to marry some pureblood nitwit."

"I don't have to get married, it's not like I've got a family that's going to force me to."

"You are technically a Malfoy, now, yes?"

"Oh, technically, they're my nearest relatives, I'm Abraxus' foster sister, but they aren't likely to push the point. If I die single, my holdings pass to Abraxus and they can't make the two of us marry. We've both made that quite clear."

"You offered to poison him?"

"No. He told them I would." She smiled. "It's nice to be understood." He laughed.

"It is." He agreed.

* * *

A single flower came to her in the mail the next morning, a flower and a note and a ring. She sighed and looked at the note, around her, the handful of girls in Ravenclaw house fell silent. Whispers sprang out around the hall.

"So arrogant." She whispered, her lips pursed. But she read the note;

_You're too talented to marry anyone else. Say yes. _

And laughed. Shaking her head, but with a smile still on her lips, she slipped the ring onto her left hand. The hall erupted in noise. She folded the note, ignored all of the rapid curious questions sent her way, and smiled as she sipped her tea.

* * *

"This has to stop, Tom."

"Why?"

"Someone's going to get killed."

"That would be the general idea, yes."

"Tom!" She growled the word out. "This is a stupid, stupid way to go about things."

"And you form this opinion because you are so knowledgeable about the world and politics?"

"I would be more knowledgeable if there stupid curriculum wasn't so discriminatory. But, yes, Tom, I do actually know something about it. And I certainly know a fair amount about death. Enough to make my own conclusions."

"You understand nothing."

"Like hell, Riddle."

"You're an ignorant child, Dawning, why don't you go practice your embroidery and let men do the thinking?"

"Go to hell you pompous imbecile." She snapped, drawing her want.

"You think you're so clever because you know a handful of spells." His wand was out as well.

"I'm better read even then you, possibly because you're so busy playing with your little minions." The spell was silent and fast, as was her counter.

"Playing? It's not playing, you stupid girl, it's networking. I'm creating-"

"Yes, yes, I've heard it all before. You're just playing games of being the next dark lord. Grow up. There are better ways to do things."

"Like poisoning people?"

"That was different! Besides, it's not like you're much better." Hexes flew. The room flashed with light, and angry shouting filled the air. Both were very talented, but it was clear that Riddle was better, clear that for all her reading, she had never been allowed to train properly in combat magic.

"Go to hell you stupid girl." His wand swung, her shield went up, but not fast enough. Magic crackled about them both and the air was heavy with it as his spell sent her flying backwards. She could the panic and the worry in his eyes as she slammed backward into a mirror.

The glass didn't shatter. In the mirror, Reilly was smiling, her long hair swirled about her by a nonexistent wind, her green eyes danced with laughter. Tom's reflection stood beside her, took her hand in his and swirled her about in a dance. He too was smiling.

The real Tom stared at the mirror and the words written upon it. He was certain they had not been there before._Erised. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. It was a simple puzzle, nothing complicated to it: 'I show not your face but your heart's desire'.

And it did. But Reilly was gone, that much was clear. And with a regret far deeper than any he had known, Tom turned and left the room.

* * *

There was a diary on his bed. He opened it and began to read. Hours later, he reached the final page. It was scrawled hastily.

_It's morning now, the morning, my last. I'm not afraid, I can't be. But I am sad. Because I never expected to fall in love, I didn't think I could. I never expected to long to meet that future, that future I have long known I will not face. No, I regret my death because I regret what cannot be._

_I regret that I cannot stand beside you as you reshape our world, as you search for greater magic and greater knowledge. I regret what I know I will say later today. Trust that my harsh words are only an emotional outburst. Whatever hurtful things, I did not mean them. Forgive me, I am as much at fault. More so, maybe. _

_Tom, forgive me. I am, so, so sorry. I love you. Goodbye. _

* * *

Later, she would be reported missing and he would be questioned, first by a suspicious Dumbledore, than by a sympathetic Dippet, who suggested, quietly, that perhaps the rather flighty young lady had ventured into the forest. Tom admitted that she might well have done, he didn't know.

Later, Professor Dumbledore would find him, staring at the mirror, willing it to give up his secrets. Sometimes, simply watching the smiling girl that laughed within the frozen glass.

"It does not do to live in dreams, Tom, and forget to live. What that mirror shows is not real, Tom."

"I know that, professor."

"If I may ask, Tom, what is it that you see." And Tom smiled, bitter and full of sorrow.

"I see Reilly, Professor." He closed his eyes for a moment, "And you? What do you see?"

"I see myself, holding a new pair of socks." Tom Riddle never forgave the old man his lie. "The mirror is going to be moved to a new place, Tom, I must ask you not to seek it again. It does not do to live in dreams, Tom, you must live." And Dumbledore did indeed move the mirror, and with that, Tom lost all hope of ever seeing Reilly Dawning again.

* * *

It was easy to open the chamber and command the basilisk to kill. And when its gaze met with Myrtle, he felt nothing. He had killed the one person he had ever truly cared about it. He did not know if he had truly loved her, but he missed her greatly.

The rest of his horcruxes would be in the founders items, grand things, fit for pieces of his soul. But this piece, this was hers. And he gave the diary all of his love of her and of hogwarts, all of his dreams of what might have been. In a black diary, he buried his last link to humanity, in it his love for the seer and his grief at her passing.

He went on to become the most feared Dark Lord of British history.


	5. Chapter 5

And now, dear reader, we depart along a different tale, another path that trickster fate might have chosen. And this path, this path need not end along familiar roads. Let us set the scene.

The room is warm, unpleasantly so, and the standoff between the child and the ghostlike dark lord does nothing to improve it. The servant's body burns and the dizziness overtakes the child. Albus Dumbledore arrives in all his flamboyant glory, robes swirling dramatically behind him as he strides through the flame, his wand casting the servant backwards.

It's the spirit that hits the mirror as it shatters. He has a moment to reflect that for all the years, for all that he has accomplished, nothing has really changed. In a thousand shattered pieces, a young woman is dancing, her eyes smile.

Curled on the floor in that dungeon below the school, beneath the crumpling stone corpse of a Hogwarts Professor, lies a girl, perhaps sixteen. Albus Dumbledore stares for a long moment.

* * *

She was thin, pale, appearing almost as though she might break in the slightest breeze. Her body lay stretched out upon a bed in the hospital wing, she still wore the school uniform from all those years ago.

The mediwitch watched as the girl moved slowly, wiping the sleep from her eyes and sitting up. She watched as careful eyes took in the hospital wing. "Hello, Can you tell me how I came to be here, Madam?"

"The headmaster brought you here, I'm afraid I can't tell you more than that."

"The headmaster?"

"Professor Dumbledore." The girl gave a thoughtful nod.

"And I am in good health, then? I assume you would be the lady to ask."

"I am, and you have no immediate injuries. Though, you have many old injuries-" The girl held up a hand.

"I am aware. But those are from when I was a child."

"Not all of them." The matron said, rather sharply. "There is evidence of deliberate injury and healing, and a certain amount of curses, as well."

"Ah. I apologize, I hadn't considered that significant."

"What on earth were you involved in, girl?" The matron said, somewhat indignantly. "You've not lead an easy life, my scans tell me that much, but surely-"

"Surely what? No one cares what happens to an orphan." The girl was smiling at the mediwitch, but her eyes were cold.

"They did search for you, Reilly." Said Professor Dumbledore, as he made his way into the hospital wing. "But your body was never found. I must ask you to tell me what happened, what is the last thing you remember?"

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I was inside a mirror, Professor. I must have been there for ages. The matron tells me you are headmaster, so something must have happened to Professor Dippit. How long has it been?"

"Miss Dawning, I must ask that you remain calm-"

"How long?" That voice could have cut stone. The headmaster flinched.

"Years. Many years, Miss Dawning. I must ask, did Tom have anything to do with your time in that mirror?" She scowled.

"Years and you still can't trust him? Honestly, Professor, he's not that bad. I might have married him, you know."

"Miss Dawning, Mr. Riddle went on to become the most feared Dark Lord in our history. He killed many people." The mediwitch was pale.

"Everyone always said he'd go out a do great things." She said rather dryly. She fiddled absently with the ring on her finger.

"That's murder you're talking about girl!" The witch snapped. "Murder and torture."

"Great things aren't necessarily good, Madam. And I think we can all agree that he ought to have gone into politics instead." The headmaster sighed.

"Miss Dawning, I need you to tell me everything you can about Tom Riddle." She swung her feet across the bed and stood slowly.

"I have a clean bill of health, you have no reason to keep me here."

"Miss, I must insist that you sit back down." Insisted the matron.

"Miss Dawning, don't be foolish." Advised the headmaster.

"You said that I have no immediate injuries, Madam."

"You've been sleeping for about fifty years, it is not your body I am concerned about. Now sit down."

"Oh, you needn't worry yourself about my mind, Madam, I was quite out of it before I spent fifty years" (and there is still breath shock in her voice as she says the number) "Alone in a mirror. I'm not significantly worse now than I was before."

"Miss Dawning, I will confine you by force if necessary."

"Professor Dumbledore, I have a clean bill of health, and I'm not a student. I haven't been enrolled in _years._ Have you contacted my family? No, I thought not. It is not your care that I belong in, so kindly allow me to depart."

"You can't do that, you don't know anything about our society. Everything has changed. It's not safe."

"Are we at war?"

"No."

"Then it is likely safer for me than I am accustomed to."

"Where are you going to go, Miss Dawning? You have no friends, no family, no money and no wand. There is nowhere that you can go."

"Have a nice day, Professor." The headmaster and mediwitch stared in shock as she stood and walked out the door, though not without a thoughtful pause at the bedside of Harry Potter, a flash of recognition in her eyes.

"Isn't there something we can do, headmaster?"

"Legally, she is correct, she belongs with her family. I think she will return when she discovers that Hogwarts is the only thing that has not changed while she slept."

"What if she runs into trouble, a young girl out on her own, without a wand?"

"If half of what I believe to be true about her is indeed truth, Miss Dawning is quite capable of taking care of herself. Poppy, what did you find on your scans?"

"The worst of her injuries would have been when she was young, not even old enough for Hogwarts." Poppy said softly.

"It was more common then, Poppy, you know that. And Miss Dawning's parents were rather notorious."

"And no one ever did anything?"

"Someone did." The headmaster said, voice rather chill, "Because she attended Hogwarts as an orphan." If Poppy wondered, in the evening with the comfort of a bottle, if maybe it wasn't a good thing the girl had been an orphan, well, she didn't say as much to the headmaster. He wouldn't have understood.

"Hi," She said, her eyes wide and her voice soft, as she stepped into the Three Broomsticks. "I don't suppose anyone here could apparate me to the hospital?"

"I can take you up to the castle, miss, if you'd like; Madam Pomphrey can fix most things, and she won't charge you. Good that way." The man was not small, by any standard, and the girl was certain he was part giant.

"I need a mind healer and someone familiar with curses." She said, her voice still soft. "And I need help finding my family."

"Do you have a name?"

"And that is the thing," She said to the helpful waitress who wore a name tag that said Rosmerta. "You see, I cannot recall. I do not know who they are."

"I'll look after her, Rosmerta, there's no need to worry about it."

"Oh, thank you, Severus. Now just go along with Professor Snape, miss, he'll see you're looked after." The dark haired man took her arm firmly and led her outside.

"What are you doing, Miss Dawning? You should not be about." Her eyes closed and it was she that grasped him then, holding him to keep standing.

"You serve, or you will, no, no, you do serve or did and will again."

"What are you going on about girl?" Her eyes opened and she grasped his left arm and jerked his sleeve violently up, exposing a faded tattoo. He jerked his sleeve back down and looked at her. Her eyes were wide, but with interest, not fear.

"You'll kneel before him again." She said softly.

"How the hell would you know?" The man snapped. She laughed, and he heard in it an echo of a memory, a haunting similarity. "Stop that."

"I see, Professor Severus Snape, Potion master, Spy. I see quite clearly that which is not before me."

"You got one thing right, you need a mind healer." He muttered darkly. "I know Poppy can't fix you and Dumbledore will only make it worse." She laughed. "Who told you I was a spy?"

She tilted her head at him and spoke slowly, as she might to a young child. "I see, Professor Snape, I see." She closed her eyes and touched her fingers to her eyelids and suddenly he understood.

"You said I'd kneel again? He's coming back?"

"Yes. Yes." She said, impatiently. "Now will you help me?"

"Why don't you just stay at the castle? You'll be safer there, you know. You don't know this world well, and a seer could easily fall into danger."

"I think," She said rather slowly, "That my side in the war that comes has already been chosen. They cannot trust me." She nodded in the direction of the castle, "Dumbledore never did anyway, I can't see why a couple decades would change that." She shrugged and her fingers twirled a ring about her finger.

"What did you do?" He asked, rather curious.

"He thinks I committed murder."

"Did you?" She smiled. He grasped her hand and apparated into St. Mungos. It was a slow day, the atrium was nearly empty and the witch at the front desk smiled cheerfully.

"How may I help you today?"

"The young lady needs to see a mind healer."

"Would you like to schedule an appointment, we have several openings this week-"

"Badly."

"Sir?"

"If you have anyone on staff equipped to deal with a -" He paused, fumbling for words. "Seer."

"That bad?" The witch muttered, "I'll call someone down to get her looked at. Do you have the authority to have her admitted, sir?"

"I'm just here to drop her off, I-"

"You're not going anywhere, Severus Snape. Because you are going to stay here and look after me, and when Professor Dumbledore wants to know where you've been, you'll tell him that you've befriended me in order to keep an eye on me. Sort of role should be right up your alley."

"Miss Dawning, If you would kindly desist telling me what I am going to do, I would appreciate it."

"I could. But it wouldn't change anything." She shrugged. "It's not like I'm giving you orders, just predicting your future." Severus Snape breathed in slowly and closed his eyes. He had a feeling it was going to be a long evening.

"Does Professor Dumbledore know about your gifts?"

"If he did, would he have let me out of the castle?" They both knew the answer to that one, but Professor Snape didn't know how she, a mere child a world away from her own, knew that about the old man.

"If the two of you would come this way, please?" The healer led them up to the fourth floor. The room was more like a formal sitting room than an examining room, but with a mind healer, that was to be expected.

"Sit down, please," Professor Snape sat on the plush sofa beside the girl, he did not look pleased. "Now, Tell me, which one of you is the seer?" The healer smiled cheerfully at the both of them.

"My name is Reilly Dawning, I have been missing for approximately fifty years. You will doubtless wish to confirm this. You will be able to use my medical record to do this, I do assume you still keep a record."

"Yes, we do. Can you give me any more information, Miss Dawning?" The healer was cheerful and radiated sincerity. The professor could tell he didn't believe a word the girl said.

"Christmas day, fall of 33. Find the record. Run a scan on me. The scan will confirm that I am who I claim to be. I was cursed, sir, and it took rather a long time to be broken." The healer sighed.

"I'll see if I can't find that file." The healer said, moving towards the door, "Feel free to help yourself to some cookies." With a wave of his wand a tray of cookies appeared on the coffee table.

"Healer," Said Professor Snape, his voice holding a mild warning, "I suspect you will find the file if you actually look." The healer gave him a look of surprise.

"Why don't you trust Professor Dumbledore?" Snape asked after the healer had left.

"Well, he started asking me about Tom when I woke up. I don't think he would have liked my answers." She shrugged.

"Tom?" The potion master did some quick mental math, "Tom Riddle?" Because what other Tom would the headmaster ask a girl from fifty years in the past about?

"Yes." She paused, thoughtfully for a moment. "Professor Dumbledore said that Tom became a Dark Lord?"

"He did." Dumbledore had filled Snape in on the Dark Lord's past, if only because Dumbledore enjoyed having an audience to share his research with. "What were you to him, that you're so concerned about Dumbledore asking questions?" She paused for an even longer moment.

"He knew I could see." Snape suspected it was more than that. "And when he comes back, well, I don't think he'll have any trouble recognizing me."

"Dumbledore would not allow him to get his hands on you."

"Yes. I know." And that, Snape reflected, didn't answer much at all. _Legilimens._ And Severus Snape's world exploded in colour and sound and pain.

Through the mess of colour, flashing images, he could hear a voice. "That was stupid." And a distant part of him knew that it was the seer.

_A boy in dark glasses stands before a mirror, Harry Potter, the Professor realizes, beside him is another child, red hair, the youngest Weasley boy. Then Dumbledore. The world flashes._

_The man is thin, pale and sickly, it takes the professor a moment to realize it is himself he sees. He's splashing water across his face, on his arm, the dark mark burns black._

"Oh, hello, healer. I think we'll both need you now. He was silly enough to use legilimancy on a seer." _The voice overlays a flashing image of the Potter boy, staring out a window. He realizes that the window has bars and the boy is impossibly pale and thin. The child looks as though he might blow away in the breeze. When? The professor wonders. Soon, or maybe recently, given the boys age._

"- if you hadn't been right about the file." Answered the healer from an impossible distance. "But he looks about like someone tried mind magic on a seer would. Mind if I scan you?"

_He recognizes the boy with dark hair and those cold eyes from memories the headmaster has shown him. The rain pours down and the boy looks up, their eyes meet. "You didn't have to wait up."_

The healer swore and Severus Snape thought his head might shatter. He could still almost feel the ran against his skin, hear the voice of the young dark lord in his ears.

_"You care about the boy, don't you, Professor?" It's Spinner's end, he's sitting across the table from himself. "Who is he? I dreamed of him, but may have met him. I don't know. The world is so vague, yes?"_

"I didn't want to believe this, you know. Child brought in on christmas by a house elf, barely conscious. But the scans show where the scars have healed. And a significant portion that isn't on the earlier record."

"My parents died when I was eleven. So there should be several years not included in the original file." The healer continued to swear. "Are you going to do something about Professor Snape?" The professor just wished that they'd kill him, or at least shut up and stop contributing to the pain in his skull.

_He can see Potter and the Weasley boy climb into a car, the boy turning it on. But almost an echo in the background is Privet Drive. "It's one of your lot out there. Go tell her to get lost, boy." The voice is shrill and high, he supposes it must be Petunia Evans. The car flies and he realizes they are at King's Cross Station. But Harry from Privet Drive is walking towards him._

"Nothing for it until he comes out of it."

"Will he?"

_The sensation of being flat, 2 dimensional instead of three. Quirrell, that idiot. And something else. Something familiar. And the Potter boy. _

"-There aren't too many cases of legilimancy on genuine seers though. Now, your physical health is fine, so why are you here?" The man's tone had shifted from friendly condescension to businesslike.

_Malfoy Manor, but vague, misty and not quite there. "Who are you?"_

"_What does it matter?" Reilly Dawning's voice comes from his parted lips. "I'm kin enough to you, if that matters any. But the Dark Lord, Voldemort, he's going to come back."_

_"He's gone. I don't know what fool ideas you have in your head girl, but you-"_

"-disappeared and note that I haven't aged since then. This is fine, the curse actually is broken, however, I have no wand, no knowledge of this era, no money and no family."

"So you need to go through the same sort of rehabilitation we would do if we were releasing someone from the ward?"

"Exactly. I also probably do need a mind healer, probably quite badly. Never saw one before, no family and I didn't want to be committed."

_The great hall is burning, he sees Professor Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye, the man is younger. Memory then. Spells fly, from his wand and at him. A single word "Obliviate." _

"That's an interesting question. I don't know who it would benefit. I'm functional at the moment, so I suppose it isn't necessary."

"Do you think you should be?" The healer's voice was gentle.

"Everyone I would have been a threat to, the only people, they died when I started school."

"Your parents?"

"Of course. So no, I'm not a danger to others and I'm not generally one to myself."

_His lungs cry for oxygen and water swirls around him. He's drowning. He can feel hands holding him under, keeping him from breathing. He can hold his breath no longer, he breathes in the cold water._

"I'd like to admit you to our program, start rehabilitation." _The world is black and his whole body aches. But the visions have stopped. The voices continue. "Playing at being a dark lord-"_

"I-" She paused, "I'm going to get out though, right?"

"_Stand aside you stupid girl."_

"Miss Dawning, you will be admitted for rehabilitation, you will be free to leave at any time you desire, though I would prefer you did not." And slowly, slowly, he opened his eyes.

"I wish I could believe that." Professor Snape came to and promptly vomited. "Ah, Professor, how are you feeling?" The man grimaced, he could still hear the voices in the echoes of his thoughts.

"Is that what your mind is like, always?" He asked. "I can see why you wanted a mind healer."

"Oh there's nothing they can do about that. They can't stop the visions and they can't prevent them breaking my mind."

"You are well, though, professor? No flashbacks? No vertigo?"

"I feel like a herd of hypogriffs has been gallivanting across the inside of my skull. And yes, there is vertigo. I feel _ill._" _"You idiot boy, I hope you think this is worth it-"_

"Professor Snape, we'd like to keep you here for observation."

"What for?"

"Professor, we need to keep you for at least twenty-four hours before we can have any idea about the long term side effects this has had. It is possible that you might fall back into the visions you saw in Miss Dawning's mind." _"-don't you just ask him?"_

"Can you do anything if I do?"

"No. But you'll might not come out of them at all if you go back into them, so it would be convenient to have you here. If you go home, it might be several days before someone finds you and brings you here."

"In that case, I will stay in my quarters at hogwarts and inform the house elves to fetch someone if I go into one."

"That is not advisable, professor." _"Don't leave me here! Please! Please! Let me out!" A child, crying, screaming. _

"Please, professor, I'm going to be staying here, and it would be nice to have a familiar face." He intended to say no, but he looked at her and saw fear and helplessness in her eyes, heard the echo of a child's voice. _"Please, I'll be good! Mother, please!"_

"Fine." He said.

* * *

"Thanks for this, Professor." She gave him a weak smile from the hospital bed beside his. "I haven't met many people, and the mediwitch at Hogwarts was nice but I don't trust Dumbledore. And I guess healer Spinks is nice enough, but I don't trust mind healers."

"I don't either." The potion master admitted. "But of all the people you could decide to trust, why on earth me?"

She smiled. "I think I have it easier, with the visions. And we have someone in common."

"Who's that?"

"Tom Riddle." She shrugged. "I worked for him, well, sort of. As much as anyone did."

"I would not recommend trusting Death Eaters, as a general rule." He advised. "The Dark Lord has been gone for many years, and it would be unwise to trust them even if that were not the case."

"Oh, dealing with Tom was always like playing with fire. Always real dangerous. Not many people scare me quite as much."

"What was he like? You seem to have taken his career choice quite calmly." _"Two parts Draught of Living Death and the remainder the Draught of Peace-" The voice is still the child, still impossibly young for a poison he recognizes quite well._

"I kind of knew he was going to do that." She shrugged. "It was always a possibility. He always wanted to show us how much better he was. He might have done through politics though, and I'd always hoped he would." Severus Snape raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"You wonder how it would have gone? He'd have claimed the title Lord Slytherin, he was eligible, and the line would have accepted him. Then he'd have married me." She smiled. "Probably in that order."

"If you hadn't met with that accident we'd have been bowing and scraping to you too?"

"Maybe. I don't know. He would have married me though, it would have fit with his plans. Not many people argued with him, I did. Constantly. Think we both enjoyed that."

Severus watched the slight smile that marked her lips, the light that shone in her eyes as they stared at a distant past only she could see, and he could hear the animation in her voice. "You loved him." It wasn't a question.

"I thought I was going to die, with the accident. I never saw myself after it. But I dreamed of it, for years I dreamed my death. I knew if I stayed near him, I would die. I did it anyway."

"Why?" _"You'll really take me with you?"_

"You know, of course, that the future hinges on choice, yes? I was scared, trying to change something, anything to live. If I moved to America, put off meeting him, I would have had a family, been married with children when I met him. In that world, he murders everyone I love before killing me."

"So you didn't do that."

"No. I could have confessed my sins and landed myself in askaban right after I met him. In that one, I'm completely crazy when he comes to free his people from askaban prison. But I talk to him and catch his eye and he takes me with him. And I'm dark, crazy, a threat to everyone around me except him, lost in visions, I'm his dark lady. That's the only one I live in."

"So you just stayed on the course you saw?"

"By the time I really thought about trying to avoid it again, he was too fascinating and too fascinated by me."

"So what are these sins that would have gotten you in askaban as a child?" She laughed.

"Guess I can probably answer that, it's been decades." She laughed again. "My parents. They ruled it a double homicide, that they'd killed one another. Which, granted, would have been like them." _"Perhaps you should sit down."_

"They didn't let an eleven year old live by herself though?"

"No. I was Abraxas Malfoy's foster sister, we were distant cousins. I lived with them until I was fifteen, then I moved back into my childhood home."

"How was that?"

"Better. Of course, anyone who didn't use crucio for poorly done hair would have been an improvement." She shrugged. "The past is the past. Abraxas and I were friendly enough, but never really close. He was always kind of cautious about me."

"Sensible." She laughed.

"Malfoy's are well known for their survival instincts. What happened to him, do you know? I suppose he's dead now, but..."

"He is. Died of dragonpox. He had a son and a grandson though."

"Ah, he would have liked that. Very gentle, was my cousin, he would have viewed a son as someone new to play with."

"They are interesting people. The child will be starting his second year at hogwarts. He is my godson."

"Ah, you are as good as family then."

"Oh?" _"You look beautiful." "It's sweet of you to say so, Eileen." _

"Most of my family is dead, were when I was a kid. The Malfoy's were my only living relatives and there's never been many of them. They have a tendency towards very few children." She shrugged. "With as few relatives as I have, one has to take them were one can get them."

"Even a half-blood?" She laughed.

"Half-blood means that only one side of your family is related to itself." Even Snape had to laugh at that.

"You should get some sleep, Miss Dawning. I need to as well."

"You should probably put a silencing ward around my bed then." She said, with a wry smile. "I don't sleep well, but there's no reason for me to share the problem."

"I feel more secure without one."

"Suit yourself." She shrugged.

* * *

When he was woken by screaming in the middle of the night, he understood the suggestion and the spirit it was given in. Two healers rushed in the room as Snape sat upright.

"Miss Dawning, Miss Dawning, wake up!" Someone shook her. She did wake then, bleary and disoriented, stammering out apologies. "We're going to feed you dreamless sleep-"

"No, no, it won't work!"

"Miss Dawning, we are specialists, we know what we are doing. You need to trust us." _"There is no good and evil only-"_

"Does it occur to you that if she is having visions dreamless sleep is not going to help with that?" The potion master asked, dryly.

"Visions?"

"The girl is a seer."

"Seer?" The healers exchanged a glance. "Sir, we need your wand."

"No. You don't." He snapped. "It should be in her file. More over, I am not giving you my wand."

"Sir, we're going to have to insist that you give us your wand."

"You can insist all you please."

"Sir."

"Grab your things, Dawning. We're leaving."

"Sir, we cannot allow you to do so. You are clearly suffering from delusions and the girl has been admitted-"

"I am not suffering from delusions. I am a Hogwarts Professor looking after a student. Miss Dawning is in my care."

"Next he's going to claim he's Severus Snape, the dungeon bat and potions master."

"I am Severus Snape. Look at the chart you dunderheads."

"I don't know, he does have the hair for it." Remarked one healer.

"No way. Severus Snape is six feet tall, dresses entirely in black, never washes his hair and hates everyone. This man is claiming responsibility for a student, he can't possibly be Severus Snape."

Severus reached past the healer, grabbed the girl's arm and tried to apparate. And of course there were anti-apparation wards around St. Mungo's.

"That's it Sir, I'm calling the aurors."

"Please do, at least try to get someone competent." Several tense minutes later, Alastor Moody stomped into the ward.

"Calls like this are why I'm retiring. What the hell are you doing, Snape?"

"Trying to convince these two halfwits to avoid dosing a seer with dreamless sleep. These halfwits seem to think this is a good idea regardless of the fact she's telling them it won't help and I, as a potion master, am telling them that it won't work."

"Let me rephrase that, Snape. What the hell are you doing in a mental health ward?"

"I tried using legilimancy on actual seer." He said. "That seer." He gestured to the girl, who had managed to gather all of her things and was seated on the bed as far from the healers as possible. "It went badly. For the obvious reason." Mad-eye actually laughed. "So they insisted on keeping me overnight."

"So why did you call me?" Moody asked the healers, who had stepped back several feet when he turned to address them.

"He was trying to escape."

"I hate to admit it, but if Snape was trying to escape, he would not still be here."

"They've decided that I am neither a Hogwarts Professor, nor Severus Snape."

"Do they think you're a death eater?" One of the healers passed out. The other one slowly approached Moody.

"Why don't you sit down for a moment, sir, I'm sure we can find a room for you."

"Stupify." Moody walked over the stunned healer and made his way to Snape.

"Get out."

"With pleasure." The girl jumped up to follow him.

"And the kid?"

"Curse victim. She'll be alright. Doesn't need to be here any more than you do."

"She's your responsibility then Snape, she turns up dead, I'll have you in askaban. She murders anybody, I'll have you in askaban."

"Fine." Snape swept out of the ward, the girl following quickly behind him. "Your arm?" He asked as they reached the entrance where they had come in. She gave it and he apparated them to Spinner's End. "I refuse to take you back there." _"Isn't the snow lovely, it's as though-"_

"Thank you!" _"-world is blanketed in white."_

"So you may as well stay here. We'll figure things out in the morning. I'll show you the spare bedroom." The rest of the morning hours were blessedly uneventful, he had not argued about placing silencing charms around her room. Severus reflected that he was very lucky that was the first day of his summer.

* * *

Dear reader, you may have noticed a style change. Years have passed. I'd apologize, but the work is better for the time. And speaking of time, thank you, for yours.


	6. Chapter 6

"I believe we should discuss your options," The potion master began over breakfast. "You might go to the Malfoys, however..."

"The affection I held for my cousin will mean very little. Family or not, they are strangers. Still, a seer is a useful thing to have around." She shrugged. "Something to consider."

"You may wish to go to Gringotts and see if they enacted a will after you went missing."

"They would have. I had it set up so that they did, because I was quite certain I was going to die. Poor planning on my part, it would seem." _"They say that he and Grindelwald were lovers-"_

"You might attend school."

"No." She shook her head. "Too much of what I know will no longer be relevant. Besides, there were very few women healers in my time." She gave a small smile. "It would have been considered ill form for me to work, but I think perhaps that is no longer the case?"

"No. Many women work now. Not as many pureblood ladies, but some do."

"I think I would like that, then."

"I'll see what I can find. In the mean time though, you will need a wand." She smiled at the professor.

"I was dueling Tom when I wound up in that mirror." She slid her wand out of a holster on her arm.

"Clever. How did they manage not to notice it when you were in the infirmary?"

"Notice-me-not charms. We used to use them on blemishes and things, but the principle is the same." He gave an appreciative nod. "They can't take away a wand they don't know you have." He smiled.

"Slytherin or Ravenclaw?"

"Ravenclaw, but Tom did tend to influence people, seldom for the better." But she smiled fondly as she said it. "That tattoo on your arm, I was wondering if I might look at it. I knew he was trying to design something, but I never saw what he came up with." He drew his sleeve up and allowed her to examine his arm.

"You are hardly the first to want to examine it."

"Oh, it is remarkably intricate. He didn't use spelled ink?"

"No." _"I don't understand, why do they hate me?"_

"Ah, then it will have rune work, covered over by the black, I think. Interesting. Permanent of course, can't imagine him having it any other way. He always was arrogant."

"Of course. Can you tell me what you've seen of him, since you've woken?" He poured more tea for both of them, setting the dishes aside. "You implied he would return."

"Oh, he will. That much I am certain of." She said, sipping the tea. "The question is how. I've been meaning to ask you, are you actually better? Tom saw visions for days and heard voices for weeks after. He couldn't go to the healers, they didn't know I had the sight and he would never have admitted to knowing legilimency."

"No visions. Just voices."

"You may have only brushed my mind then. It should go away eventually. Did you get memories too? Or just the visions. They're all sort of jumbled for me. I remember things that never were." She smiled as she said it, but ghosts lingered in her eyes.

"You're worried about your sanity." He observed.

"Always." She shrugged. "I lost myself to visions for fifty years. This world isn't quite as strange to me as you might think. I followed Tom, mostly, but that brought me to the boy with the scar. Potter, I think."

"Yes."

"And so followed him. I always told myself if I had a chance, I'd try to look out for him. His family hate him, you know?"

"What do you mean?" His mind flashed to a boy not older but thinner and pale as death behind barred windows.

"The boy who lived in the cupboard."

"And everything you see is true?"

"Everything I see is possible. I saw no indication that what I glimpsed was anything other than inevitable." She shrugged. "Easy way to find out though." His eyebrows raised. "It wouldn't be that odd, to check on him, would it?"

"For me? It would be." _"Post is here. Something for you, Dawning."_

"You care about the boy, don't you, Professor? Who is he? I dreamed of him, but may have met him. I don't know. The world is so vague, yes?"

"You may have seen Mr. Potter in the hospital wing. He is, in part, responsible for the events that removed you from the mirror."

"He's someone important, I think. But what's more interesting is that he's important to you. Who is he to you, professor?"

"The son of an old friend." She tilted her head at him, a question in her eyes, but she accepted his answer. "I had assumed he was well cared for."

"Ah. I can go find out." His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. "They had gypsies and the like in my time, women who peddled charms, muggle and witch alike. I can play the part. Linger for a time and then return."

"You think you can apparate there?"

"I think so. But I'd prefer not to. I'm not terribly anchored in time yet, and that makes apparation dangerous."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I don't know much about it. But you can end up a couple minutes off, or inside walls, or just vanish never to be found." She shrugged. _"Come with me. There's nothing to be afraid of. They don't want you anyway."_

_"What if they call the police or something?"_

_"Do you honestly think they will?"_

_"No. Will you really take me with you?"_

_"Of course." He knows those voices, he realizes._

"Professor? Professor?" He shook his head as though to clear it. "Are you all right? Visions?"

"Just audio. A question though, Miss Dawning-"

"Reilly, please, call me Reilly"

"-Reilly, When your visions are interposed upon one another, what does that mean?"

"Possibilities." She shrugged. "The decisions that determine which will occur have not yet been made, both still remain possible."

"So we might be able to decide which one will happen?"

"We might influence it." She shrugged again. "What's troubling you, Professor? It's best not to worry to much about the future, especially not the way you have seen it."

"You'd have seen a redhead and the Potter boy, getting into a flying car."  
"And something else?"

"A boy, just the Potter boy, walking towards you."

"Ah. But the decisions that determine that are nearly made. That future is almost set. When I see it, the car is background, vague and misty, almost as if it were not there at all."

"So they won't get into the car?"

"No." She gave him a small smile. "Please, Professor, Don't let it trouble you. I've had a long time to get the hang of this, fifty years, I'm a great deal better at it than I was before." Another smile. "Of course, I don't need to sleep to see visions now." And there is a sorrow in her words and that twisted smile.

* * *

They settled into a routine quickly. Severus Snape was by nature a quiet and studious man, and spent his summer's marketing specialized potions to even more specialized customers. He did not look kindly upon interruptions.  
She was capable of potions, though there had been many advances in potion making since she had studied them, and he found that while he could trust her, for the most part, to prepare ingredients, it was vital that he did the mixing himself.

It was some time before the topic of the house on Privet Drive came up again.

* * *

"The girl is staying with you, Severus? Why on earth did you not bring her straight back to the castle?" Poppy's voice was shrill in his ears.

"She wouldn't have come."

"No, Severus is right, Poppy. This is better, he'll be able to keep an eye on her better there, and she may open up to him eventually."

"She's a rather open person, headmaster. You're the only one she has issues with."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Apparently she woke up to Professor Dumbledore telling her that the man she was to marry had become a Dark Lord and killed many people."

"Still, why you of all people?" He sighed, pulled up his left sleeve so they could view the dark mark, light but not completely faded, against his skin.

"She knows I won't judge her for who she almost married." He said quietly. He could have told the headmaster about her visions, about who and what she was, but he didn't. Because she wanted, for whatever reason, to keep Potter safe. The headmaster hadn't kept the boy from killing that fool Quirrell. He hadn't even hesitated about telling the child he had committed murder. Not that the headmaster would have seen it that way, he'd have said it was "for the greater good". "If that's all, headmaster?"

"You will tell us, if she says anything that might be useful about Tom, won't you, Severus?"

"Of course, headmaster. Though she isn't exactly clamoring to talk about it."

"I'm sure she will eventually. Remember, that for her, it hasn't been fifty years. For her, it feels like she agreed to marry him almost months ago. She will come to terms with it and help us eventually."

Snape nodded to the headmaster and Poppy and made his way out of Hogwarts and back to the house at Spinner's End.

"Dumbledore asked me about you."

"I know. I've known since I woke up."

"Do you know what he said?"

"Tell me anyway." She said, "I made tea."

The tea was fresh, still steaming on the table. She'd already poured two cups. Because she had known, or very nearly known, when he would be back. That part about living with her had never stopped being mildly unsettling.

* * *

She'd done laundry. He knew because every single one of his robes except the one he was wearing had what appeared to be runic protection charms sewn into the sleeves. He picked one up and brought it over to her. She looked up from the book as he approached.

"What is this?"

"Embroidery." His eyebrows raised, waiting for her to continue. "It's stitch magic. Just mild protection charms. It's not going to help with an unforgivable or anything." She shrugged. "Take the sting off most jinxes though, I'm fairly good at it."

"Why?"

"Because I practice."

"I'll rephrase that and I want a clear explanation. Why did you feel the need to sew charms into my clothes without asking my permission first?" She had the decency to look embarrassed.

"It's unseemly for them not to be there when you have a stitch witch in the house." She said rather firmly. "Besides, I think you're going to need them at some point."

"Until my enemies decide they need to undress me before casting spells on me." He said dryly. Then looked at her face. "Just how much would they have to take off?" She blushed, looked at her shoes.

"Most of it." She stammered, face red. "You're going to need it."

"Ask first."

"Sorry!" His eyebrows raised. "Sorry. It won't happen again. Next time I'll ask before I mess with your clothes. Be happy I didn't colour everything. Honestly, is everything you own black?"

"No."

"Sorry. I'll just go make tea then, shall I?" She stood and attempted to hurry past him.

"Reilly-" She halted in her tracks, turning to face him with a look of alarmed resignation on her face. "You do realize that stitch witchery is generally done by one's relatives or spouse?"

"You're the closest thing I have to family. I don't have anyone else. Is it so hard to believe that I want you to be safe?"

"Furthermore, stitch witchery has been a lost art in England for almost twenty years. So it will be noticeable." She opened her mouth. Then closed it.

"Okay. So...?"

"I imagine I will be explaining for a great length of time that my rather sheltered young niece has come to stay with me."

"Sorry about complicating everything." And she looked so shaken that he had to offer her something.

"It's fine." Because he knew that cautious look only too well, had worn it himself, for his father and later had hidden it from the Dark Lord. "We won't be able to introduce you as Reilly Dawning though, I'm afraid."

"What do you suggest?"

"Why don't you make that tea and we can discuss it over dinner? It may take us some time to get the details straight and I have no desire to do it on an empty stomach."

"All right."

* * *

And soon enough, Severus Snape's niece, Reilly Prince had a portable cart and a tendency to walk around selling embroidered scarves and handkerchiefs and small runic charms and bracelets.

Reilly had been quietly stunned at the number of people who couldn't make runic charms. She put warming charms on mittens and hats, charms to attract romantic attention on decorative scarves, and jewelry.

She soon discovered that muggles were only to happy to doubtfully purchase something from her ("It looks neat, doesn't it? And she says it's good luck.") without worrying about it. And she smiled and offered to tell their fortune ("And really, _Uncle_, it's not that hard to tell them what they want to hear."). By midsummer, she was gone more often than not, and he assumed she'd found somewhere of her own to stay.

She was sitting at the corner of privet drive with her cart, and had watched the thin woman at number four glancing out of her window, glaring, several times. The breeze carried her voice to the girl.

"It's one of your lot out there. Go tell her to get lost, boy." The boy that approached was one she had seen before, he was pale and thin, his clothes worn and several sizes too big.

"Miss?" He said, voice hesitant. "I've seen you before, I think, in the hospital."

"Yes. I think so." She agreed with a smile. "I was sick for a while, but I'm better now."

"Do you go to school there? Are you from around here?"

"No." She shook her head, smiling.

"My aunt wants you to go away. She doesn't like people like us very much. That's why she sent me out."

"It's a gift," She says with a smile, "A precious gift, and we should never take it for granted. It's one of the most beautiful things in this world."

"What is?"

"Magic."

"Don't say that word. She hates it. She'll beat me for it later."

"Then don't go back. Come away with me."

"I-I'm not supposed to leave. I don't think I am."

"I'll make sure you're safe, and that you get to Hogwarts. More over, I'll never hit you."

"I don't know."

"Come with me. There's nothing to be afraid of. They don't want you anyway."

"What if they call the police or something?"

"Do you honestly think they will?"

"No. Will you really take me with you?"

"Of course." She smiled softly, "My family wasn't great either."  
"Are they around?"

"No. Something to thank the dark lord for, I guess." She lied casually,

"The dark lord? Most people call him-"

"Yeah. Sorry, I've been staying with my uncle lately, and he made some bad decisions. The dark lord was one of them. And it is less of a mouthful than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Professor Dumbledore says that we should use his name, that fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"It's sound advice. The thing is, some things, it's sensible to be scared of." She shrugged. "Shall we tell your family where you're going?"

"Are you sure that's-"

"Trust me. It'll be fine." And she walked up to number 4 privet drive, smiling cheerfully, her cart and the boy following behind.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Boy-"

"Please," Her voice was soft but there was something in it that made Petunia Dursley shut her mouth and stare. "I'm going to be taking the boy off your hands for a while. He's going inside to fetch his things."

"What are you-?" The boy slipped past her into the house.

"You don't want him. If you did, you'd treat him better. I'm going to take him off your hands. I'll bring him back eventually." Petunia stepped aside to allow the girl in, her lips tight.

"That man, that man said we had to keep him here. To keep the boy safe from..."

"He will be safe with me." She watched as the boy fetched things from the cupboard under the stairs.

"I've a few things upstairs, but I'll only be a moment." He assured her, as he left his trunk out in the hall and rushed up the stairs.

"He will be safe then?"

"Yes."

"And you have to bring him back?"

"Eventually. It may be next summer." She shrugged. "I figure it's bad form if I don't. But we can drop by and discuss that whenever, just drop him a note." She smiled.

The boy rushed back down the stairs. "Behave." His aunt told him. "I don't want you back anytime soon. Mrs. Figg is in the hospital, so I'll have nowhere to send you if you do come back."

"Yes Aunt Petunia."

"Get out." She said to the girl.

"It's been a pleasure, madam." She said with a smile and she and the boy walked out of number 4 privet drive, a cart and a trunk between them. "So," She said, with an impossibly cheerful grin, "What was your name again?"

"Harry, Harry Potter." She nodded without displaying the faintest hint of recognition, something he thanked every deity he knew for. "And yours?"

"Reilly." She said, with a smile, "Reilly Prince."

"Reilly, if you don't mind me asking, why are you doing this? Taking me in? I'm a complete stranger."

"You would be, but I'm a seer, and I've seen you. So you're mostly a stranger, but not completely. And I saw bars on your window in my vision. Bars on your window and food through a flap in a door."

"Oh, yeah, I was wondering what they'd purchased a cat flap for." He gave her a more careful glance. "You can see the future?"

"Some of it." She shrugged.

"And you saw me? I'm nothing special, I'm just Harry."

"I don't know why I saw you. Maybe proximity." She smiled, and there was grief in her eyes. "I don't want-" She stopped, sighed, "I won't leave anyone with a family like that. Mine was bad enough, I won't watch anyone else go through that. Not if I can do something."

"It's not that bad, they feed me, mostly, and I have clothes."

"Neglect? Verbal abuse? Did you ever wonder what you did to make them hate you? Why they didn't care about you? Did you ever think it was normal?"

"Yeah. I did." He admitted, eyes on his shoes.

"How old were you when you learned that it wasn't? Seven? Eight?" He shrugged. "You get the point." Her voice was dark and he dropped the subject as they walked on.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to decide how annoyed my uncle would be if I brought you home. Very, I think. So I suppose we'll wait on that for a bit. Have you ever apparated?"

"No?"

"Ah, should be interesting then." She drew her wand and shrunk both cart and trunk, placing them in a pocket. "Your arm?" He held it out gingerly and she linked their arms together. There was a loud crack, his insides went outside and back again and he found himself throwing up outside a trailer.

"Home sweet home." She said with a wry smile, opening the door to let him in. It was clean, the furniture looked comfortable and the walls bright. He knew immediately that magic had been involved; It looked like a rusty slum on the outside.

"It's brilliant." She laughed.

"There's a spare bedroom, I think you'll find it suitable." The hall was narrow, so that he had to trail behind her as she led the way.

It was suitable. The furniture was simple, but he was struck by the fact she had included a perch for his owl. "You really can see the future, can't you?"

Her eyes followed his to the perch. "That's what convinced you?" She asked softly. "Harry, anyone could have found out that you have an owl. The bars? The cupboard under the stairs? I knew about those."

"What else?"

"I saw the night your parents died."

"You didn't do anything to stop it?"

"I was trapped in dreams, Harry, unable to wake. I slept for a very long time."

"Oh."

"After that, I saw more of you. I saw your first bits of accidental magic, I saw your sorting." She smiled. "I saw you in the hospital wing of hogwarts when I woke."

"That's creepy, you know?" She grinned.

"It gets worse." There came a pounding on the front door. "Don't worry about it. I believe the cops busted the people next door for drugs, they're here to ask questions."

"Great." He sat down heavily on the bed. "Just great." She went to the door.

"Miss, I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Go ahead."

"Now, you live here alone, correct?"

"Previously, yes. My little brother's going to be staying with me though."

"Can you get the boy?"

"He just got here. What are you asking questions about?"

"Just get the boy."

"Harry?" The boy poked his noise around the corner, then shyly made his way to stand beside Reilly, eyes wide.

The cop eyed the two of them. Black hair and brown hair, green eyes. There was a striking delicacy to her features, a thin, sickly look to the boy. "And your last name?

"P-P-"

"Prince." She finished, not allowing the boy a chance to break their cover. "But you knew that. It's on the lease."

"Miss Prince, we've had some reports of drug use in the area, your neighbors suggested you might have some information." She laughed.

"I'll just bet they did." Her voice was dry. "I suppose you left them completely unsupervised to come over here. Good luck with that."

"Miss Prince, what are you implying?"

"Nothing." She said, voice a desert. "Nothing at all."

"You're a bit young to have your own place."

"Lease says I'm eighteen. That's legal."

"I'm not implying that it isn't. But there are a lot of runaway kids and-"

"My uncle knows precisely where we are. I come by for meals every now and again. Our parents are dead."

"I'm So-"

"Don't. You come here, implying things about how I run my life, how I take care of my brother, I don't want your fake sympathy. Don't bother."

"Neighbors report people disappearing and reappearing kind of odd like. Know anything about it?"

"Neighbors do really interesting chemicals too. Makes you see funny things, I guess. I try to stay away from it. Seems a bit spooky, you know? Makes you see things that aren't real."

"Miss Prince, that's heavy accusations-"

"I'm not accusing anyone of anything."

"Can you give me your uncle's address?"

"No."

"Miss Prince, I would like to confirm that-"

"I know that. But I don't want to deal with him if I send the cops to his house. He won't like it and he won't take it well."

"Miss Prince-"

"Please, sir, I can't prove anything, but he's family and I've got to take care of him." She nodded her head to the boy. "I'm not in any trouble, not drugs or anything, and I keep my head down and follow the laws. Way I see it, it isn't anybody's business how I run my life."

"Boy doesn't look like he's been properly fed."

"He hasn't. I told you I just got him, didn't I? And my uncle doesn't know I have him. But they let him come with me, didn't argue it, so it's not kidnapping, they know where he is. But they don't want him and he's my brother."

"If I take the boy to the hospital-" The boy shrunk back against Dawn, "what would an examination show?"

"Malnutrition. Old injuries, I'm not sure how many of those." She shrugged.

"Nothing good though."

"And if they examined you?"

"Most of the scars are gone, but they'd find evidence of old breaks. Nutrition'll be better, I've been safer longer, and we were in different places."

"And your uncle, he's not the one responsible?"

"No. I went to live with our great aunt, but she was sick and couldn't take Harry. She died and now Uncle looks out for me."

"And Harry?"

"He stayed with our Step-Mum's family. They were happy enough to only have one, but they'd have rather had neither. They let me take him without any complaints."

"They knew how young you were?"

"Lease says I'm eighteen."

"I'm going to leave you be, since you don't seem to have anywhere else to go, but I'm going to drop in and make sure the boy's looked after."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate that." She looked down. "I'm not really sure where I'm going to get him decent clothes, but I can cook for two as easy as one, and I've a bed set up."

"There's a second hand shop a few streets down, you should be able to find some stuff for him there."

"Thank you. I don't suppose you could drop a note or something before you come by? It doesn't matter when, but I sell charms and things, and I don't want to leave Harry alone, so we might not be here."

"Don't worry about it." She closed the door as the officer left, and then began swearing quietly and passionately.

"Reilly?"

"Sorry, Harry, it just seems that I'm going to have to work on our security is all." She shrugged.

"You were very good at convincing him we were..."

"Safe? A family? Better of left alone?" She shrugged again and turned to the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Yes." He said promptly. "What would you like me to cook?"

"I wouldn't." She said, with a note of irritation. "Just sit down." She gave him a comforting smile that told the boy her irritation was not at him. She went to work at the stove while he sat at the table and watched her. It was a unique experience for the boy.

"You lie well."

"Occupational hazard." She said, and grinned. "But I'm glad you appreciate it."

"Tell me something. I don't care what. I just want to know everything about you."

"Is that so?"

"You're my sister now, right?" He asked, looking at her with those wide green eyes through his mop of dark hair.

"Guess I am." She admitted. "How much of the truth do you want?"

"All of it."

"Maybe someday. But I'll tell you pieces."

"Okay."

"Well, I told you I was sick?"

"Right. In the hospital wing at Hogwarts."

"That's right. But it wasn't sick exactly, a magic accident of sorts. Have you ever heard the of the legend of the sleeping princess?"

"Is that a wizard's fairytale?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Will you tell it to me then?"

"Later. For the moment, I think I'll summarize." He pouted. "Later, I promise." She said, in response to his sad eyes, "There is of course a princess, and she is given the drought of living death," She noticed the flash of recognition in his eyes, "I see you have heard of it."

"Yes. The drought of living death will send the drinker into a sleep that, if not given the antidote, the drinker will never wake from."

"Yes. She is rescued of course, but she has slept for years by the time it has happened, and her parents and her friends are all gone, passed away into the land of the dead."

"Was she old?"

"No. For the drought of living death brings about a sleep that is so similar to death that without magic, the only way to identify it's use, is that the drinker's body does not rot or age or change. Everything around them shall decay, but the sleeper remains unaffected by time."

"Wicked."

"Very." She agreed, with a smile. "I wasn't given the drought of living death, but there was an accident that trapped me in a mirror for many, many years."

"A mirror? Is that why some mirrors in the wizarding world talk?"

"That is, I believe, an enchantment. Certainly, I could not talk. But you saw my mirror."

"Really? Where?"

"I show not your face but your hearts desire?"

"Erised? You were inside the mirror of erised?" She nodded. "That must have been so dull. How long were you in for?"

"About fifty years."

"Fifty!"

"So they told me."

"Fifty!"

"That was about my reaction to it, yes."

"How did you get out?"

"I have some theories about that." She shrugged, "No way of confirming any of it though. The mirror was shattered after you took the stone from it. I didn't stay in the mirror."

"So that's why you were in the hospital wing?"

"Exactly."

"So you went to school years and years ago? Is everything you knew really terribly different?"

"Oh, very much so." She said with a smile. "I once loved someone very dearly, would have married him, in fact."

"What happened to him? Did he get married to someone else? Or is he still waiting for you? Have you gone to see him?"

"I haven't. He..."

"He what? I bet he still loves you." She smiled.

"You're sweet, Harry." He made a face.

"So why haven't you gone to see him?"

"He had an accident of sorts too, and it's probably possible to fix him, but I don't know if it's a good idea or not."

"Why not?"

"He did some very bad things after I disappeared. And I'm afraid that if I brought him back to health, he'd keep doing them."

"If he loves you, won't he try not to make you unhappy?"

"You know, Harry, I think you're very clever for a boy of your age." He laughed.

"I'm nothing special."

"Of course you are." She said and reached over to ruffle his hair.

"I'm really not. And you're going to figure that out eventually. And then you'll give me back to the Dursley's."

"Harry, I will do no such thing. I will keep you safe as best I can. You have my word." He could feel magic thick in the air and it felt as though something important had happened.

"What was that?"

"I gave you my word. Which is, at least in my time, a rather important thing to a witch or wizard of any class."

"I still don't get it."

"There are vows in the wizarding world, you have heard of them, yes?"

"Maybe."

"Well, you know people can promise something, right?"

"Right."

"And it doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"Right."

"Well with magic, it does. I can promise something, and it means nothing. If I give you my word, if I break it, I stand to lose something."

"Like what? How does it work?"

"Well, I gave you my word, which is not quite the same as taking a vow. Giving you my word only needs one person's magic. It's magically binding, so should I break it, I lose status."

"Status?"

"I am a pureblood lady and the last of my line, I have a title, though no holdings, since I was assumed dead, and access to bloodline magics."

"There's magic based on bloodlines? Doesn't that screw wizards up for things like adoptions?"

"A bit. But we have rituals that allow for adoption into a bloodline. They've fallen out of practice in modern times, because it's blood magic, and therefor assumed to be dark."

"Assumed?"

"Not all blood magic is dark magic."

"Are you sure?"

"Harry, I can use any spell for good or for ill. What matters is my intentions. Evil is in wizards, not in magic."

"There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it?"

"I don't know about that. I think those that hurt children are evil, don't you?"

"Yes."

"There you have it then, evil." She smiled. "But there is no evil magic. Evil is in people, not in spells."

"There are spells that hurt people though, are you saying they aren't evil?"

"Intentions, Harry, intentions. There are some very nasty spells out there, but if I don't mean them, don't want what they are going to do, I can't work that spell."

"Really?"

"All magic is based on intent. If you want something enough and have enough raw power, you can force the spell to work, regardless of how bad your wand movements and pronunciation are."

"Then why do they teach us all those exact spells and movements in school?"

"Most people have neither the drive nor the power to force the spells to work."

"Could you show me?"

"Sure. I feel like showing off." She smiled and drew her wand, pointing it at Harry's plate. As she drew the tip of the wand up, the plate rose. "See, no hover charm."

"That is wicked."

"Not really." She said, setting the plate back down. "For all you know, I'm still saying the incantation in my head."

"Is that how it's done?"

"If you're beginning. When you get better, you need neither incantation or wand movement. Magic is all about will. What is magic if not forcing your will upon the world around you?"

"Power."

"Ah, yes. It is that."

"What I said earlier, about there not being good or evil, only power,"

"Yes?"

"The man who told that to me, he killed my parents when I was a baby."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"He tried to get me to join him."

"Why didn't you?"

"He killed my parents. He tried to kill me."

"Did he have a reason?"

"What do you mean?"

"No one does something without reason, especially not something as drastic as murder. Why did he kill your parents?"

"I don't know."

"I am sorry, Harry, you see, I told a friend those words once."

"I don't understand."

"Those precise words, Harry. Fifty years ago, when were but teenagers, dreaming of changing the world."

"You mean you knew him, before he was all creepy and disembodied?"

"Yes." She said, and there was sorrow in her eyes. "He was an idealist, Harry, and so was I. I thought he could change the world for the better."

"He killed people."

"He was a child when I met him. I went Hogwarts with him. He was a boy, very much like yourself."

"You can't mean that."

"Can't I? He grew up in a place that hated him for being different, he was an orphan, unloved and unwanted before he came to Hogwarts. Sound familiar?"  
"I guess. But I'm not going to turn out like that."

"As well you shouldn't." She agreed. "But if you thought you could make it so that other kids like you didn't grow up like that, if you could make it so that muggle born children began in our world, wouldn't you?"

"My best friend is a muggle born witch. She's the smartest girl our age."

"And how much better off would she be, how much more talented, if she had lived in the magical world all of her life? Magic doesn't work if you don't trust it completely."

"What do you mean?"

"If I point my wand, say a word, and don't have full confidence my spell will work, I'll be lucky if it does. Didn't they tell you that magic wasn't real? If you'd been much older, less willing to change your beliefs, they might have ensured you were never a decent wizard."

"What? No? No!"

"You were lucky. They didn't convince you that magic is impossible. If they had, you'd be a wizard, still have magic, but your chances at ever controlling it..." She shrugged.

"I didn't know they could do that." She began putting dishes away, lifting them into the sink with her wand. He watched with interest as the dishes began to wash themselves.

"I don't know domestic spells, so I have to use raw power for that. Pointless of course, it takes much more energy to do it that way, but I haven't had a chance to learn the spells yet."

"Wouldn't that save so much time though, not having to memorize all the incantations and wand movements?"

"Sure, it saves you learning them, but the more I save my energy, the more magic I can do, the longer I can last in a duel."

"Have you ever seen an actual duel? I only learned what a wizard duel was this last year and I've never seen one."

"I've participated." She said, smiling. "I'll teach you combat magic, after you've finished your summer school work."

"Really? I can actually do my school work? I mean, I sort of knew I might get to, but the Dursley's locked it up, so I was totally unprepared and hadn't read any of my books before I got to school."

"And that, dear Harry, is why people like the Dark Lord dislike magical children growing up with muggles."

"Makes sense, I guess." He said, making a face. "Wish it didn't though. I hate thinking the man who killed my parents was reasonable, let alone right about anything."

"The world isn't black and white, yes?"

"There is no good and evil." He said, rolling his eyes.

"No one, is completely good or evil, even bad people have good ideas. Even good people get others killed. Sometimes, good people do more harm than bad ones."

"You think so?"

"Sure. They think they're helping."

"And bad people? Do you think that they do good?" And there was something in the way he asked that made her wonder just how much she really knew about the child.

"I'd like to think so." And there was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite identify.

"Will you tell me about Voldemort?" He asked, voice gentle and coaxing.

"I don't know much about your Voldemort, Harry? I-" She shook her head as though to clear it. "He's coming back, of course."

"Dumbledore told me as much."

"What else did Dumbledore tell you?"

"That I survived his curse as a baby because my mother loved me." He pulled up his bangs to reveal a lightening bolt scar. "Apart from that, not much, really."

"Hmm."

"It hurts sometimes. My scar. When I'm near him, I guess. I don't know. It's weird, don't you think?"

"Yes. Yes it is." She was frowning. "Did the headmaster ever talk to you about removing it?"

"No. I didn't ask. Do you think it's possible? It'd be great to get rid of it. Everyone knows who I am. It's horrible."

"I don't know if it is. If it was," She smiled, "That would be interesting. If it's not, well, that would be interesting too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it would reveal the nature of the magic involved."

"The killing curse."

"Oh!" She whistled. "Oh, that explains a great deal." She closed her eyes for a long moment, remembering.

_Rituals and carvings and preparations, the item was Gryffindor's, a ring heavy with crimson, and she watched him slip it onto his finger, before blasting the door open. _

"I wonder..."

"What?" She shook her head.

"There's a great deal I don't understand. But..." Her fingers twitched towards her wand, "Later. I'll pester you about it later. Why don't you get some of that homework done?"

"All right."

"I may even look through it, after you're done."

"Really?"

"Well, it's been over fifty years since I've studied the curriculum, do you suppose it might do me good to brush up?"

"Oh. Yes. I expect so." He grinned as he went to get his books.

* * *

You may have noticed that this chapter has been altered a bit. Mostly because I gave up on the pretense of renaming Reilly. I found it to be rather tedious and equity useless. So she is, a bit, but no more than really practical. As ever, thank you for your patience and I hope that you have found this journey to be a pleasant one.


	7. Chapter 7

The store was crowded and the scene tense, you know it, reader, this scene in the crowded bookstore.

Lucius Malfoy stood, sneering, and beside the young redheaded which, stood another, a teenager. Her long dark hair hung loose, and her clothes, while old, were elegant.

"How kind of you," She said, voice quite calm, as she lifted a diary from the girls cauldron where the man had slipped it, "To give the child something. But I am sure, these good people would not be so offended that you had to slip it in so carefully."

His eyes flashed to the girl and the diary. "Girl-"

"I'm not sure a diary is quite correct though," She slipped a runic charm into the girls hand, "For luck, I think, Ginerva." She slipped from the store, and Malfoy followed, ignoring the surprised glances of the Weasleys.

"What was that about, Miss?" He snapped at her as he caught up to her in the alley.

"Lord Malfoy," She said, smiling, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Girl, I have not the time for this." He hissed.

"It is a sad day when you do not have the time for common courtesy. Especially to family." His eyes narrowed.

"Who are you, Lady?" Because even in shabby clothes, there was no doubting that she was a lady.

"An interesting question with many answers." She said, finally.

"Reilly." Severus Snape seemed to appear out of nowhere, and he was anything but pleased. "I have some questions for you.

"You are not the only one, Severus."Severus saw Lucius Malfoy and swore quietly and thoroughly. "Nice to know that you are pleased to see me." Severus took hold of the girl's forearm, maintaining a solid grasp on her arm.

"I'm not going to run off." She assured him.

"You expect me to believe that?" He asked, darkly.

"Severus, I don't suppose you'd care to bring the young lady over for tea this afternoon?"

"It would be my pleasure."

"If you don't mind, I have things I need to get done-"

"No. You don't."

"Yes, I do." She snapped, jerking her arm free of him. "I'll come by in an hour or two."

"I can find you, if you do not."

"Yes. Yes. I know. You've proved that, _Uncle_." She said, voice sharp, as she strode away.

"I don't suppose you'd care to explain that to me, Severus?"

"If it's all the same, I'd rather not." Malfoy's grey eyes darkened.

"I will see the both of you this afternoon, yes?"

"Father, what's going on, everyone's saying you were giving charity to the-" The child's rapid words halted at the sight of Professor Snape, "Hello, Professor." He said, politely.

"You will." Severus said, quietly, to the boy's father. "Hello, Draco. While I would love to stay and chat, I do have errands to run, so I will see you this afternoon." He nodded to them both and strode away, dark robes sweeping dramatically in his wake.

* * *

"Harry, there's been a few complications when I went to get your school things."

"Unexpected ones?" He asked, a little surprised, looking up from his schoolwork as she walked in.

"Somewhat." She set the books on the table in front of him. "I ran into a few other people, so I've been invited to tea this afternoon, and I do not think it wise for you to accompany me."

"So I'm on my own for the afternoon."

"Yes."

* * *

"Well, Miss Dawning, have you anything you would care to tell me before we depart?" He asked curtly.

"I kidnapped Harry Potter."

"What?"

"Do I actually need to repeat that, or was it a shock response?"

"Why?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say kidnap, exactly, since his relatives know who has him and he came willingly enough. They didn't treat him properly, he's much happier with me, I assure you."

"Does it occur to you that there were wards surrounding the house for the boy's protection?"

"From what? Lord Voldemort? Given a choice between the boy and I..." She smiled, "The child is safe enough in my care."

"We will discuss this later." He grasped her arm and apparated. They appeared at the gates to Malfoy manor.

"It hasn't changed a bit." She observed, smiling. "I wonder-"

"Come along, Miss Dawning. I have neither the time, nor the patience for this."

"As you would." She trailed along behind him, smiling.

"Severus," Lady Malfoy greeted them warmly, "My husband said you would be coming, who is the young lady? I don't believe I've made her acquaintance."

"Narcissa, this is my-"

"Please." Said the girl from behind Professor Snape, "My name is Reilly Dawning."

"Oh, dear me, are you quite certain?" Asked the lady. "Do come inside, both of you. I trust some sort of explanation will be forthcoming?"

"Indeed." Said the potion master. As they followed Narcissa down a long hall, they passed a portrait and the adults halted when they realized the girl was not following.

"Reilly?" Asked the portrait. "What on earth are you doing about? I should remember your disappearance quite vividly."

"You should." She agreed. "Merlin. I-" She shook her head. "I was supposed to be dead. This is, Merlin, it really has been so long." To her disgust, she found tears running down her cheeks. "Merlin, Abraxas. It should have been me."

"I had a good life, Reilly. I didn't die young." Her laughter was tinged with hysteria.

"Mordred's thrice cursed lullaby." She said, voice broken.

"Reilly. Relax. It's fine." She kept laughing. "It's fine." He repeated. "It's fine."

"You're dead."

"I'm supposed to be dead, Reilly. I've been dead for years."

"It feels like only months ago we were laughing together. And you did die young. We live so long, you should have lived so much longer."

"It's fine. Really." Narcissa put her arms around the girl as the portrait tried to reassure the witch.

"Come on, you're going to sit down and I'll have one of the elves bring you some tea, all right?" Narcissa said gently.

"All right." She agreed, voice quiet. Between them, Narcissa and the potion master managed to guide the girl into the sitting room and settle her in a chair with a cup of tea.

"Severus, can you explain?"

"Miss Dawning had an accident of sorts, she's been rather outside of time for nearly fifty years. She is sixteen or seventeen, I believe. For her, it has only been a few months. When she went away, Abraxas was still alive."

"You mean to tell me the girl just found out her brother is dead?"

"Oh. No. She knew. I imagine it wasn't quite real to her before this. She hasn't had much of a chance to grieve."

"She was Abraxas' sister? He spoke fondly of her, I recollect that much. So why, Severus, was she not brought to us? We are family. Distant, perhaps, but family."

"She barely managed to escape Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore."

"And, Severus? Why were we not informed? I appreciate you looking out for her, for you are a very dear friend, but...?"

"Your dark lord," Said the girl, seeming to return to herself for a moment, "I would have married him. If that doesn't induce caution, well..." The girl smiled and turned her eyes back to the tea cup in her hands.

"Severus?"

"She did not wish to. It was her choice."

"There is no grief that a family cannot heal. She is going to stay with us."

"No. I can't."

"Severus, tell her." Demanded Lady Malfoy.

"I'm not going to." The potion master informed her with the air of a man caught between to women who has no intention of being involved in the argument,

"He's waiting for me to go home." The girl said.

"Who?" Narcissa asked, going pale.

"Potter." Severus answered with a great deal of irritation. "She apparently thought kidnapping him seemed like a good idea."

"What?"

"They didn't want him!"

"Nonsense, what family wouldn't want him. And why hasn't it been announced in the papers, if the boy is missing?"

"Because they didn't want him. They let me take him. They were glad. Muggles. Stupid ignorant muggles."

"They put Potter with Muggles? Of course the boy will be welcome here. You can both stay here. We would be happy to have you." Lucius Malfoy halted in the doorway and stared. "Wouldn't we, Lucius?" His wife asked.

"Of course." He said. Because he knew that tone all too well. "Do you want to tell me what's going on, dear?" He asked mildly.

"Your father's sister, you recall he told us about her disappearance?"

"Yes?" He looked at the girl. "He also said she could see the future. That she told him about it before it happened."

"Abraxas has a big mouth." The girl said, rather pointedly. "Big heart though, too." She added as an afterthought.

"No." He said, quietly. "It can't possibly be..." He trailed off, then his voice returned, alight with understanding. "That's why you wanted the diary, that's why you knew what it was."

"What it was? And what, pray tell, was that? I wasn't the one to enchant it, I simply gave it to him. Wrote letters, poured my heart and soul into it, as it were."

"I meant that it was important, something the dark lord asked me to protect."

"And you were giving it to a child?" The man scowled. "You look terribly like him," She said softly, "My brother, I mean." And the anger faded almost as quickly as it had come.

It was easy to forget that she was the young woman who had almost married the dark lord, a woman he might have knelt before, when all he could see was a scared child who had lost everything she had ever known.

"Is she serious, Severus?"

"Very. She is as she claims to be."

"Then she is family, and it is a family matter. I'm sure you can understand the delicacy of such things."

"No." She snapped. "I don't care if he's kin to you, but he's been the only constant in my life since," She broke off and found herself again, "Since I woke up, and that makes him kin enough to me."

"She says the Dark Lord is going to come back, Lucius."

"What?" Narcissa, already ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale. Her husband was tense, though his face was a forced calm.

"She told me that I knelt before and would again." He shrugged, "I don't know how much she sees."

"The future is very uncertain, but he is coming back. But when..." She shrugged. "I don't know, that's quite variable, our lifetime, certainly." Lucius exchanged a glance with his wife.

"Severus, I know you are versed in the mind arts, is there any way you might-" Snape was shaking his head before Lucius could finish the question.

"I'll not try that a second time, Lucius. She is a true seer, if the mess that is her mind is any indication."

"Are you recovered from that fully?" She asked, with some interest.

"I am fine." He snapped. Her eyebrows raised ever so slightly and she smiled.

"I'm glad to hear it." She said softly.

"You didn't tell me Uncle Sev was here?" The boy said, accusingly from the doorway. "Who's this, mother?" He asked, noticing Reilly.

"Family." His father answered, voice dry.

"How come I haven't met her before then? Who is she?"

"Draco," There was a warning in his father's voice.

"Hello," She smiled at the child, "It's a pleasure to meet you," She hesitated for a moment, "Cousin." There was laughter in her eyes and the boy was instantly wary, showing what his father believed to be the first indications of common sense and self-preservation.

His eyes went from the girl to his father and back again, then to his godfather, watching them for reactions. The men, for their part, watched the girl, caution in their eyes. "Hello." The boy said softly. "The pleasure is mine, I'm sure." She smiled at his words.

"Tell me, little one," and she took his hands in hers, "What does freedom cost?"  
"I don't know." And the moment seemed to break, for she shook her head slightly and relinquished his hands.

"No," She said, "Of course not. You shouldn't know."

* * *

Harry began to look through his books, and towards the bottom of the stack, he found an old diary. On the inside cover, in careful black script was written T. M. Riddle. But, as Harry flipped through the diary casually, he realized that Riddle, whoever he was, had not written a single thing in his diary.

With a shrug and the assumption that Reilly would not have gotten him a blank diary if she did not intend for him to write in it, Harry picked up his quill and began to write.

_My name is Harry Potter._

The words faded into the diary as he wrote them, and were replaced by a far more elegant script.

_Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle._

* * *

"I found my family."

"You said they were dead." He remarked with interest.

"Oh, not the ones I grew up with. My brother's child and grandchild."

"That's nice?" She shrugged in reply to the question in his words.

"They wanted me to stay with them, but my brother is dead and they are so like him. And that house, I spent many happy years in that house, and I kept expecting to see him walking through those halls."

"You're leaving me?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't leave you even if I could bear to be in that house."

* * *

_Tom,_

_My sister, and how strange it is to write that! Is gone most of the day now. Spending time with her family, her real family. I don't know what I was thinking, leaving my aunt and uncle's to live with some stranger. But it is better here, even if Reilly isn't around much. She makes sure that I am fed, and when she is around, she is so happy to teach me magic._

_I have a great many questions about her though. She acts as though she does not know of the fuss about The-Boy-Who-Lived, about Harry Potter and the lightening bolt scar that I so desperately hate. But she knows something, I know she does. And sometimes, when we talk about magic theory, I start to wonder if maybe she is a Dark Witch. I don't think she has any moral objections to it, honestly._

"Why is dark magic dark magic?"

"It's an origin thing, Harry, all a matter of where the power is coming from. What we call light magic comes from your core, magic in your core regenerates over time,but if you drain your core, your done. What we call dark magic comes from external sources. Magic generated by sacrifice is dark magic, as is musical magic and some kinds of rune work.

"So it doesn't have limits based on the power of the caster?"

"Different sort of limit, more a limit based on will power." He had to wonder how much she knew from experience.

* * *

_Harry,_

_It is wise to mistrust this stranger, who is somehow your sister. But a dark witch is not necessarily a threat. And if you are better off with her, and you have implied that is the case, keep your head down and your questions to yourself. Better to find your answers by watching than to risk offending her._

"My brother used to laugh all the time. Wonderfully cheerful person. His son isn't anything like that, must have taken after his mother. Wonder who Abraxas married..."

"Abraxas? That was your brother's name?"

* * *

_Tom,_

_Somehow my sister. Yes, that sums it up rather well. She just showed up one day, out of the blue, and the next thing I knew, I was living with her. She says she saw me in dreams, says she can see the future. I wanted a family so badly that I didn't question it nearly so much as I should have._

_The man who killed my parents, and left me with that darned scar, he is still out there, and he has followers, I know. I can't do magic outside of school, and that means I am vulnerable. His followers might want revenge for their Lord's defeat, and I went away with a stranger as though it was nothing. What a fool I am!_

He peered into her room as he walked back to his bedroom from the loo. She was tossing and turning in her sleep, thrashing, and it seemed as though she was crying. He wondered if he ought to wake her, and as he stepped into her room, her crying suddenly took sound. A silencing ward that he had stepped past. He fled back to his room and away from the screaming. Whatever hell lay behind her eyes, he was grateful not to have known it.

* * *

_Harry,_

_True seers are rare, and the gift tends to run in families. I knew one once, so perhaps your Reilly is of some relation. Perhaps if you describe her to me, I will be able to tell you more about her._

_This Lord who killed your parents, why would his followers seek revenge on you? And yes, leaving with a stranger was foolish, but if she were intended you harm, she should surely have harmed you the moment she had you alone. You were lucky, then, that it was she you went with and not someone who did seek you harm. Everyone makes mistakes, Harry, the trick is in not dying from them._

"I could tuck you in, tell you a story if you like."

"I'm a bit old for that." He decided. "But no one ever has, so perhaps you should."

"All right."

"Once there was a princess in a far away land, she was a lovely creature, with hair that seemed as spun gold and eyes the blue of the sea. Her name was Melthada and she was well loved by her parents. But the king and queen died when the princess was still a child and she fell into the care of her uncle who, though he loved his niece, loved duty more.

As the princess was yet a child, her uncle ruled in her stead. Her uncle, Kaiden, was a harsh man, but in many ways a just one, and though his young niece was as fair as the rising sun, she was a foolish creature, prone to flit from one idea to the next as a butterfly from plant to plant. Kaiden well knew this, and try as he might, he could not get his beautiful and headstrong charge to mind him and to learn from him the keeping of the kingdom.

Years passed and the girl aged from fair child into beautiful young woman. But still, she grew no more patient and no more sensible, and Kaiden found himself fearing for their people the day he relinquished the throne to it's rightful heir."

* * *

_Tom,_

_Reilly is beautiful, and impossibly graceful. She moves like these older pure blood ladies do. Her eyes are green, and her hair is brown. I do not think she is particularly tall, though everyone is taller than me, so it is hard to judge._

_She told me this fantastic story, and I don't know if I quite believe it. She is a very good liar, so I don't know. But she says she was trapped in a mirror for fifty years. Coincidently the same mirror that Professor Dumbledore hid the Philosopher's Stone in, the same mirror that I got it out of when Voldemort, the wizard who killed my parents, was trying to get it. And it's a strange mirror, the mirror of Erised, it's called. It shows you your heart's desire. I, of course, saw my family. My friend Ron saw himself as successful and everything. I asked Professor Dumbledore what he saw in the mirror and he said it was himself holding a pair of socks. If he didn't want to tell me he could have just said so._

_Voldemort? I guess I defeated him when I was a baby and he tried to kill me. Sorry, Tom, it's so much common knowledge in the wizarding world that I forget you wouldn't know about all of that. I didn't know till I was eleven and got my Hogwarts letter. But the scar on my head, shaped like a lightening bolt, that's from the killing curse. I'm the only one who's ever survived being struck by it. Dumbledore explained that it had to do with my mother sacrificing herself for me._

"Still, flighty as his niece was, the reagent loved her dearly and could not bear to see harm befall her. Yet the man watched the wayward sons of nobles who often flocked around her, and feared more the fate of the kingdom. For the man whom she married would be king, and the young princess was a flighty thing, delighted by the promises of young men her uncle thought worthless fools.

At last, the sixteen year old princess settled upon a man, and introducing the boy to her uncle, she declared "Uncle, this is the man I shall marry, and no other."

"And you love her?" He asked of the man who stood beside her.

"My lord, I love your niece more than anything in the world. I would do anything for her, sacrifice anything for her. She is all that matters in my world."

And Kaiden despaired. For that devoted young man cared more for the lady than for the kingdom, and he would allow it to suffer for her decisions. He would coddle her and adore her, rather than acting as a shield between the kingdom and his wife's mistakes.

At last, the regent settled upon a plan. He could not harm his lovely niece, but he could not in good conscience allow her the crown. In the dark of night he brewed a potion that we know now as the draught of living death."

* * *

_Harry,_

_My Seer was beautiful and delicate. She dreamed the future in her sleep and was haunted by the past. She was a dark witch, but she would have died before she harmed a child. My seer was a clever thing, and bold, unwilling to be bound by the constraints our society placed upon pure blood ladies. They would not allow her, or any witch, to learn combat magic in Hogwarts, and so all she knew was theory._

_So she had to be a dark witch, it was the only magic easily within her grasp. Still she was talented enough that I found sparring with her to be a pleasant diversion. She had an accident and wound up trapped within a mirror, the very mirror you mentioned. Professor Dumbledore, our transfiguration teacher, moved the mirror before I could figure out how to free her._

_Harry, my seer was a pure blood witch with eyes of sparkling jade and brown hair that she wore long, as was the custom. Her name was Reilly Dawning, and she was the sister of a close friend of mine._

"In the early hours of the morn, a servant awoke the castle with a cry. For he had found their princess, who was soon to be their queen, still as death and cold. No breath moved from her lips, and silence reigned.

The tears the new king shed as they placed his beloved niece in a tomb beside her parents were real ones, as were the tears of the people in the streets. For that he loved her, he had shielded them from her and she from them. They knew not of her foolishness.

But the young man who had sworn he loved her so had chosen to follow his lady to her grave, and in the dead of night, a few months after, he bravely snuck into her tomb. And there he found her, still and silent as the dead, but she had not changed since the day she had been placed there. She remained as beautiful as the daybreak.

And he was devoted to her, and seeing this realized that she must be only sleeping. He spread a balm of the antidote upon his lips and slowly kissed his lost bride. And she awoke."

* * *

_Tom,_

_Fifty years old. That's about how old this diary is and how long she was in that mirror. How strange to think that my Reilly is your seer. And she must be. I wish that you could leave this diary, your advice would be so much more helpful that way._

_She mentioned casually once that she had known Voldemort, before he was Voldemort. So you must have known him to. She's fairly guarded when I ask about him, and I want to know everything about him. I want to know why he wanted me dead, why he killed my parents. Because Reilly is right, he must have had some kind of reason._

She's almost as guarded about him as she is about the man she would have married. And even with the vague answers I've gotten, I kind of wonder if it wasn't Voldemort. Of course, it can't have been. Maybe someone who followed him though? You have to know, right?

"Kaiden was not buried in a tomb beside his brother, nor placed in a decorated grave by loving people. Kaiden was buried in an unmarked grave, killed by the righteous fury of a crowd who could not forgive his betrayal of their beautiful lady, his lovely niece.

The kingdom rallied around their new queen, who made a tragic figure, dressed in black, mourning the betrayal of the man she had trusted. And beside her stood her new king, a handsome man who was clearly devoted to her.

And under the care of that beautiful pair, the kingdom fell to ruin and to despair."

* * *

_Tom? Are you still there, has something happened? I can't remember what happened last night, and Reilly is pale, and the way she treats me, it is as though she is frightened. But it can't be of me. I wish I knew what was going on. Tom, please write. Tom?_

* * *

I will admit to creative license on the letters in the diary, but I wanted to parallel Reilly's own letters. As ever, dear reader, Thank you for joining me along this journey.


	8. Chapter 8

"Would you like me to tell you a story?"

"There is no need for that, Reilly." And something in his voice brought her eyes sharply on him, something in his stance made her freeze.

"Harry? Little one, what has befallen you?" But it was all wrong. His head was high, his form confident, his stance balanced. And there was a grace to his motion, and the smile that formed across his face was not the shy smile of her Harry.

"Reilly? Don't you remember me," he paused, a cold smile forming on his lips, "Darling?"

"Tom?" She asked, in some combination of shock and horror, of the child she had kept in her care for nearly a month.

"Very good." His eyes were darkly pleased. "Now why don't you tell me why you aren't dead?"

"Can't. No good reason I should ever have left that mirror. Each theory as unlikely as the next and what not."

"Share your best guess then."

"You were there, when the mirror broke. I'd guess I might have been in the mirror for you because you were there to see me enter it. I think I had to be there, be visible, when it shattered." He laughed, and the sound was all wrong, not Harry's gentle chuckle, but Tom's laughter, high and cold.

"Fifty years and still hung up on you. Pathetic."

"I never said that."

"You wouldn't." He said, darkly. "But I have things I need to do, and you will help me accomplish them."

"I-"

"I won't have problems from you, Reilly. You _will _help me."

"Or what?" She challenged. His smile was cold and cruel, and his eyes shone.

"The boy thinks well of you, but he's worried. He thinks you are a dark witch, that you might have served Voldemort." She paled. "Which one of us do you think he trusts more?"

"Hmm, let's see, witch who took him away from his crazy relatives, or wizard who murdered his parents, who do you think?" He laughed.

"You do care for the boy, then. So you would care if I were to take this body and perform some illegal spell in front of muggles. Something really nasty, I think." He smirked. "There's this nice blood boiling curse I've been meaning to try-"

"Fine!"

"I knew you would see things my way."

"I always do." She said, voice as dry as the Sahara. He smiled that cold, cruel smile.

"It's good to see you again, Reilly." And those emerald eyes held something in them that she couldn't name. She wasn't sure what to say, and her fingers twisted the ring upon her hand round and round again absently as she attempted a smile. "Your kin, they worked for me once, yes?"

"Yes."

"And shall they again? I will know, Reilly, if you lie to me." There was no questioning the dark promise behind that smile.

"They will." Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear it.

"Take me to them, then." He held out his arm and she took his hand in hers.

"As you wish." And the grace with which he took to apparation was alien to her Harry. "And now, Tom?" She asked as they stood before the gates of Malfoy manor.

After house elf had fetched them to a parlor room, they were greeted by Narcissa Malfoy. The woman studied the pallor of Reilly's face, the tension in her stance, before turning her eyes to the child.

"I'm sorry." Reilly breathed.

"Why don't you let me do the talking, darling?" Suggested the child, venom in his voice. The girl beside him flinched and Narcissa found herself looking into green eyes that promised the blackest of nights.

"She married into the family, and she isn't one of yours. Why don't you talk to my nephew?" Reilly snapped at the child.

"Reilly, what's going on?"

"Don't you dare answer that." He commanded.

"I think it might be prudent to, actually." She said, voice sharp. "Not that you give a damned what I think. Never mind that I didn't do anything wrong."

"You let me think you were dead. You made certain that I thought you were."

"It wasn't a deception, I really thought I was going to be." She said, a little sulkily. "But to be fair, you never let on that this was a possibility." She gestured widely across the body of the child, a touch of venom in her tone.

"You'd be amazed by how much you had to do with that." There was a twisted amusement to his smile and her eyes darkened. "Lady Malfoy," he greeted Narcissa, finally, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I believe you know me as Lord Voldemort."

"My lord?" She stared, eyes going from the child to the girl -barely more than a child herself, Narcissa thought- who stood beside him. The girl gave the faintest of nods. "I'll fetch my husband." She said. As she left, she could hear the quiet hissing of an argument begin to brew.

"Do you have a pressing need for endless dramatics?" The girl asked sharply, still no more than a moody teenager standing beside a child.

"I'd hate to curse you, Dawning, but that mouth if yours makes it awful tempting." It was unsettling, to hear that dry, mocking drawl from innocent Harry. But of course, it wasn't Harry, and it was that which unsettled her most.

"So we're back to Dawning now, are we? That was rather quick, Riddle. I might start to think you didn't like me." He laughed.

"Passive aggressive guilt tripping is beneath you, Reilly. And it never did work on me." His voice held the echo of sandy winds and dust storms. She huffed moodily.

"Lord Malfoy is here," she said flatly, resisting the urge to snap at him further. It was still playing with fire, that hadn't changed. He was as dangerous, as compelling as she remembered. That too, made her nervous.

"My lord?" She pitied the man, he looked so lost. And they must have made quite the pair, standing there arguing, the teenage witch and the child. "If I might ask, your current form?"

"Is temporary." Reilly opened her mouth to ask several very important questions, but a pointed glance from him was all it took to silence her. Lucius Malfoy had been more sensible; he was barely breathing. "Possession. A matter of convenience for the moment. It will be of minimal difficulty to restore my body, I trust I shall have your assistance?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Reilly?"

"If the boy doesn't survive this, I'll kill you myself."

"You're welcome to try it, darling." And the smile he gave her really did reach his eyes. But of course it did, he was expecting poison.

A flurry of orders, not all of which she could understand the reasoning behind followed. The one she found most pressing was his command that she and Harry move in to Malfoy manor.

"What? Why?"

"Convenience." He said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. And it should have been, if she'd thought it through. She grimaced. "It makes you uncomfortable." It was no question.

"Yes." She admitted, because what use was there in lying to him?

"I thought it might." He said, and his eyes held laughter.

"Bastard." She hissed the word under her breath.

"You know full well my parents were married." He'd turned to examine a trinket on the table, turning the shining thing over in his hands with interest. "Why don't you go move things? Do find the boy new clothes, Reilly. Even you should find the muggle cast offs embarrassing."

"I was planning on getting the boy new clothing. He thought unnecessary." She could not help the twisted grimace that formed as she eyed the clothes with distaste. "No matter." She shrugged. "Does this mean I'll have a break from you for a while?"

"Hoping?"

"Maybe." She smiled. "Be nice to have some time to adjust." She admitted, with a shrug and a shy smile.

"Get out of my sight, Dawning." But he too was smiling, "you have work to do." But she could see the light dancing in his eyes, see the shade of Tom Riddle in the child's face. Her heart wrenched and she turned away, not wanting him to see the emotion she knew lingered in her eyes.

She apparated from the grounds, using her wand to direct the little trailer to pack itself up.

When she returned, items shrunk and in pockets, Narcissa was happy to show her two adjacent rooms in the west wing of the manor. Not the family wing. "I imagine he'll want privacy." She said. Reilly laughed. "I'd put you in the family wing, but-"

"You don't want to run into him first thing in the morning any more than I." She said calmly. "And I will." She shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Did you see this, Reilly?" Asked the lady. "Did you know?" And it was a charged question, because there was no doubting that a warning would have been quite welcome.

"I wish I had," she said softly, "I would to god I had." Her smile was forced, her eyes dark. "I don't see everything, and the future is always changing. I still see a shadow, possessing animals in the woods far away when I scry to see your Dark Lord."

"Then, who, or what, are we dealing with?"

"Tom Riddle." She said, laughing, the faintest hint of hysteria touching her voice. "That's him, I'd him anywhere, under any face."

"Tom Riddle?"

"Tom Marvalo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort. It's an anagram." She shrugged. "He came up it with years ago." She gave an offhand gesture, as though to brush away the referenced years, "longer years than I remember it being, I suppose." She said, with a wry smile.

"I've been meaning to ask you, you were cousin to Lucius's father?"

"Yes." She wondered where the woman was leading.

"Was your cousin Abraxas if the seeing line?"

"Oh, you wonder if your son has it." She shook her head.

"He shows no sign. Lucius says that his father told him that you had been creepy even as a child." She laughed.

"Yes, he said as much to me." She smiled faintly at the memory. "But the blood runs true. Abraxas missed the gift and the insanity that runs with it, but blood runs true and we shared the seeing line."

"Thank you, for your honesty." Said the lady.

"I'll unpack. I suppose he will find me when he needs me." She said dryly, as Narcissa gestured to two doors, already labeled with names. "Thank you." Narcissa's smile did not quite reach her eyes.

Magic eased unpacking into a rapid task. But with no sign of the child or the passenger he carried, she cast the usual silencing ward, and then, more carefully, an alarm ward that would trip should anyone enter or leave the room. Sleep was long in coming, and she dreaded the visions that in sleep she could not stop.

In the darkness, she wondered how her gift had failed her, had failed to warn her. She should have known, she should have seen. She knew so many bits and pieces, and she never knew enough, was never as all knowing as she like to pretend, but there should have been something, some indication, some warning.

Sleep claimed her and the world spun.

* * *

"_What does freedom cost?" Ghostly voice, her own. So sad, so lost, the despair is almost tangible. This road is not safe, she can feel it, feel the cold wind of death draw about her like a shroud. It's almost tangible, the wings of fate. Can she be wrong twice? The world is blurry and distant, the study is familiar, but she can't place it. Words and faces drift by her, intelligible, vague and faded, impossible to recognize. The world shifts._

_Tom. Not the boy, but Tom, older, and twisted, somehow different, but undeniably, it is him. Her arms fly around him, clinging as if he is the only real thing in the world, and perhaps he is. "Reilly." He says, and she can feel that smooth voice vibrating, feel arms wrap around her in turn. "It's been too long." And it has. Days, months, years, eternity, it has been far too long. _

"_I love you." The words stumble out of her mouth before she's realized she's said them. His lips brush her forehead, he's still taller than she._

"_You mentioned that in the book you left me." He remarks, as though it were some note she'd sent him, the day before, and not a diary fifty years past. And she can't concentrate on when it is, soon but not too soon, for his arms are warm around her, his lips warm against her brow, and he pulls back and his eyes meet hers. And she's lost in those eyes for a moment. _

_But a moment is enough. Another shift. "Crucio." Thank god it isn't her, not the figure on the floor, not the dark cold voice behind the wand. But she knows them, knows Tom's face in those chill red eyes. And she can see the spell falter as it strikes the man's chest, but the falter isn't Tom's, nothing yielding there. But she recognizes the flare of magic, the signature activation of a warding charm. And she knows those charms, knows the man who wears them, even behind that mask, it can be no other. The potion master lies on the ground, writhing, as the minor wards fall. They don't just fall, the warding runes burst into flames. _

_Her dreams are haunted by the distant sound of horse's hooves, the baying of night hounds, echoing cries across the night._

* * *

Harry Potter woke in a strange bed. His things were there, unpacked neatly, his school books exactly where they should be, the diary towards the bottom of the stack. He could tell, looking at the uneven pile, that it had been done hurriedly by someone who paid little attention.

She hadn't found the diary. She hadn't read it. That was good. In part because Tom was the only friend besides Reilly he had been able to communicate with over the summer, but also in part because he trusted Tom. He was never sure about Reilly.

The room was nice, well furnished, if strange to him. It occurred to him, briefly, that Reilly might have magicked it, while he slept. But the changes were vast, and he thought it more likely that he was somewhere new.

He looked around, admired the quality of the sheets, the garden view out the window, the bathroom and large closet. Then, dressing in a pair of pants (his own, it was nice to have a few pairs that actually fit) and an old shirt of Dudley's, and tried the door. Open. Another good sign.

The hall was long, elegantly furnished with paintings and decadent wall fixtures. The room next door was labeled conveniently with the name 'Reilly'. He opened the door carefully and stepped inside.

Reilly sat up, drawing her wand from the bedside table in a blurred motion. Her eyes were wide, and she seemed strikingly hesitant. She watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Harry?" She asked.

"Who else would it be?" He asked. A little curious, wondering if perhaps seeing things that weren't there in her sleep was branching into her daylight hours as well. She shook her head.

"I don't know. I'm a little jumpy. Strange place."

"About that? Where are we?"

"Malfoy manor."

"What!" He exclaimed, a little louder than intended. He stepped further inside, shut the door, and sat on the end of her bed as she sat up. "Why? What's going on? How'd we get here? You do realize that Malfoy hates me, right?"

"We had to leave in a bit of a hurry." She said with a wry smile. "There's a lot of unpleasant things out there, and my nephew and his wife had suggested you and I stay here before, and in a hurry with nowhere else to go, I brought us here."

"What were they?" He asked.

"The wild hunt rides and it does not do to linger in their path. Wizarding or muggle, it is unwise, and for a young wizard, especially so."

"The wild hunt?"

"A myth, a legend. The headless hunt of ghosts would seek to mimic them, but the huntsmen are no mere ghosts, and they can well effect the living. It is best not to face them."

"And they were there? Why can't I remember?"

"If you could remember, you would have rode with them, and I should have been helpless to stop it. I barely got us both out as it was. The hunt is mystic, and shrouded by magic. They are a blind spot on my sight. And," She smiled, "Hard as it may be to believe, divination never was a specialty of mine." The boy laughed.

"Really? Isn't that what divination's about, seeing the future?"

"It is." She said, smiling. "Now why don't you tell me about your rivalry with young Mr. Malfoy?" And so he told her. About the Madam Malkins, and the train, about the duel that wasn't, about Neville's rememberall.

"That's not so bad." She said, when he had finished. "No attempts at murder, anyway."

"If that's not bad, I don't think I want to see bad."

"You don't." Her lips formed a twisted smile, and her eyes shone. It was one of those times when Harry figured that understanding the joke was liable to make him several kinds of unhappy. He'd gotten to know Reilly a bit better, and had a glimmer of what her past had been.

"He hates me."

"Do you hate him?"

"I don't like him."

"Get to know him, it may change." The boy snorted. She raised an elegant eyebrow.

"It's not likely." He said, sulkily.

"We shall see." And the corners of her lips raised, forming the smile that meant she knew more than he did. He resented that smile.

"I guess."

"Go take a shower, read a book or something. I want to change and take one myself. I'll come fetch you when I've finished and we can find breakfast."

"Fine." He said, sighing.

The bathroom attached to his room ('Harry' in neat, shining script across the door) was strange. There was a mirror. A sink. A drain.

Where there should have been a shower, there was a pool like depression with water sitting in it, too shallow to be a tub. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept seeing fish in it, but they vanished every time he went for a closer look.

Hanging above the pool was a rope. Dubiously, he stripped. Wishing for a door. Wishing for a lock, and hoping he could figure out how to operate whatever magical conglomeration was pretending to be a shower.

He kept looking around the room. A toilet would be necessary soon, he realized, and he wanted to find it before it became urgent. He didn't want to ask Reilly. There were some kinds of embarrassing that really were to be avoided if at all possible.

He stepped into the depression, which counter to all appearances, didn't feel as though it had water in it at all, and pulled the rope. The room exploded in water. Which explained the drain in the center of the floor. Some sort of ward kept the water from leaving the bathroom and entering the bedroom. Miraculous.

Harry was soaked. Instantly. Then the bubbles started. Large, blue bubbles the size of oranges surrounded him, seeming to drop from above. Harry relinquished the rope. The bubbles stopped.

He tugged again. More bubbles. More water. He guessed the bubbles might be functioning as soap. He hoped they were. The water continued. It was at least warm. He was grateful for that much. In order to try to wash the bubbly soap compound off, he continued holding the rope and stepped out of the depression.

Water flow increased. It was a miracle he hadn't managed to get soap in his eyes. He relinquished the rope and the explosion stopped. He looked around for a towel.

In the corner by the sink he found a pot. Pretty thing, designed like a flower pot, but plant and soil were absent. He thought about it for a moment, then peeled a stray thread from his shirt (soaked through) and dropped it into the pot. It vanished. He hoped, truly hoped, that he had found the toilet.

That done, he still hadn't found a towel. "How the hell am I supposed to get dry?" He muttered. On the word dry, the wind picked up. Inside the bathroom, there was a small tornado surrounding Harry. When it vanished, he was extremely dry. "What the hell?"

The sink was, he decided a lost cause. Because while it was recognizable as a sink, having the typical depression and drain, it had no place to turn on the water. Moreover, it had no pipes.

And then it dawned on him, it was obvious. The wizards who had designed and built Malfoy manor had never seen a muggle bathroom. Wow. Hogwarts, he reflected, had obviously been rebuilt, at some point, in the imitation of muggle architecture, perhaps for the accommodation of muggleborn students. Malfoy must have been so confused, he realized with a jolt of surprise. And having to live with a bathroom that operates so differently would give a person cause for resentment, he supposed.

His clothes were still a little damp, having clung to the floor when the wind came up. He put them on anyway. It would be good to get out of the bathroom and back into an area he actually understood.

He had just enough time to write a quick note to Tom, hoping, praying, that Tom might have answers. Scared of what they might be.

There was a knock in his door. "Come in." He shoved the diary hastily under his pillow. It was Reilly. Not a hair out of place, looking fresh and ready for the day. And she would know how to operate that bathroom, wouldn't she? He thought with a little irritation.

"You need to tell me what everything is."

"What?"

"Bathroom." She laughed momentarily.

"Muggle raised." She observed, tersely. "I'd forgotten. I'm sorry, Harry, dear, I should have shown you before. Thoughtless of me."

"It's fine." He said, as she moved past him into the bathroom.

"This manor was built back in the days of chamber pots, so it is quite a marvel actually. Only thing that is really analogous to the muggle world is the chamber pot." She gestured to the pot he had found earlier, and he gave a sigh of relief. "It is, of course, self-emptying, probably into a hole in the ground somewhere." She smiled. "Location is everything. The similar looking pot in your bedroom is the laundry chute."

"Good to know." He sent a silent prayer up to whomever might be watching, thanking them for sparing him that mistake. She laughed.

"Everything else is run by runes, based on runic command words. However the commands have been altered sometime in the last couple of centuries to respond to Basic English, which is really helpful." She stepped out of the bathroom and he followed.

"Location, again. In the depression" she pointed, "The words, water, and soap are very important to you, the rope is an off-on switch. In front of the sink, hot, cold, and stop will control the water. Dry," and she eyed his damp clothes knowingly, "as you may have discovered, starts a small whirlwind."

"I figured that one out, yes." He admitted.

"That's controlled by command words as well. Less and more, I think. Or some variation thereof. They never did get the drying system worked out in any reasonable fashion."

"It's insane." He observed. She thought for a moment.

"I suppose so, yes. This really was the marvel of the time, Harry. Long before indoor plumbing had been conceived of by muggles. This had everything, they were really proud of it, back in the day."

"It's is impressive. Howarts uses pipes."

"I don't know why." She said, "Rune work is more reliable." She shrugged. "It's not like they need them." She shrugged. "And they didn't have indoor plumbing when Hogwarts was built either. The place never would have run without magic and elves. They altered most of the castle to make it friendlier to muggleborn students around the turn of the century."

"Thank you for the history lesson." He said. It took her a moment to realize that his thanks was genuine and not sarcasm. "It's helpful. I'm beginning to realize why they look down on muggleborns."

"There's a lot of reasons for that, many of them not nearly so good." She said, shrugging.

"That's a history lesson I want, Reilly. I'm realizing more and more that I'm a stranger, an immigrant into the world I was born into. I want to learn my culture." She watched the boy for a moment before speaking.

"That's a very adult observation and outlook, Harry."

"I killed a man in that chamber beneath the school, Reilly. He turned to stone. I wasn't much of a child before that, didn't have much of a childhood, but children don't kill people."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Why? You didn't have anything to do with it. You couldn't have done anything."

"I was younger than you when I first killed." She admitted. "But I knew what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing. You made no conscious choice. You had no control over what happened. That wasn't murder, Harry, just an unfortunate accident."

He shrugged. Not agreeing, but not wanting to argue. His stomach grumbled and he looked up at her hopefully, "Food?" She grinned.

"Absolutely." Her eyes danced with laughter for a moment, before she surveyed him up and down, and her lips pulled together tightly at her conclusion. "Those clothes," She began, he examined the floor, "Are not suitable."

"I don't have anything else." He admitted. Her wand flashed. Things changed in an instant. "How long does the charm last?" He asked.

"Until midnight." And the clothes were beautiful, a deep dark blue with silvery stitching. And they fit. The shirt was formal, collared. His pants, mercifully, had changed only in color.

"Like Cinderella?"

"Who's Cinderella?" He laughed.

"It's a fairy tale." He told her, grinning. "A muggle fairytale."

"You'll tell it to me sometime, won't you?" She did love knowledge, that bit about Reilly was reassuringly like Hermione. Hermione would like her, he thought.

"Of course." He said.

She held out her arm and he looked at her blankly. With a sigh, she took his arm and placed her hand on the inside of his forearm, so that their arms laced loosely together in a way that allowed her to guide him firmly around.

"Cultural thing?" He asked as she led him down the long hall to a stair. She ghosted her hand along the rail as they walked down.

"Ah, yes, a code of conduct that has changed very little over the course of time. Young women are escorted by family members or a man who is courting them, children by elder siblings or parents."

"Escorted?" Another hall, another stair.

"Into whatever social situation one happens to be going. It's a protection of sorts. It means a child cannot be drawn into a social situation by an adult without his escort present."

"That's important?"

"Not only does it keep you from making a fool out of yourself, it's a safety measure. The games we play," She said with a grimace, "They are not all pleasant. Many are cruel and dangerous."

"Games?"

"Pureblood society is a twisted dance, people playing games. Intrigue and cruelty reign. You need your wits about you for that sort of thing." She shrugged. "I suppose you will have to deal with it, you'll be Lord Potter at your majority, and they will try their best to pull you into it." Lord Potter? A question for another time, he supposed.

"I-You'll teach me, right?"

"Everything I can." She promised. She stopped at double doors. "Walk soft, little one." She told him, and reached out to push the door open.

It was a dining room built for a large family and guests, and her arm laced through his allowed her to pull him down to the far end of the room and deposit him in a seat across from Draco Malfoy.

"Sorry, we would have been down earlier if I had managed to resist the urge to give a history lesson." She said, voice melodious. Taking the seat beside Harry, across from a blonde haired woman that had to be Draco's mother, and beside his father. The resemblance between the two was subtle, more in the way they held themselves, poise and grace, than in their features.

"It is no trouble." The man said. "We were just starting. I trust you slept well."

"Like a dream." And Harry had lived just down the hall from her long enough to know that lie when he heard it. "Harry is better today as well." He got the sense that they were talking in some kind of code; he was comforted by the fact that Draco seemed as clueless as he.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"History lesson?" Draco asked, "What history could you possible discuss at this hour?"

"Not a morning person, cousin?" Harry noticed that Draco's eyes went violently away when Reilly spoke, in that melodious, teasing way.

"She told me about the history of the manor." Harry answered. Reilly wouldn't answer, he knew that. And she would be displeased if he was anything less than friendly.

Tom would be too, Tom would tell him that Harry was in a situation that he had no control over, and that he'd be much safer making friends instead of enemies. Tom would be right, of course, he always was.

"Really? Did she tell you about when Great Grandfather dealt with the acromantula infestation?" There was a note of eagerness to his tone. And while Harry strongly suspected that Draco was on best behavior for much the same reasons as he was, the story sounded far too interesting to pass up.

"She didn't." Harry admitted. "Clearly this must be corrected. Will you tell me?"

"Not at the breakfast table, boys." Draco's mother had a tone that brooked no argument. "I will not have you discussing the exploits of that ghastly wizard at this table." Draco snickered.

"My uncle was an interesting character." Reilly said with a smile. She began loading her plate with breakfast, then Harry's. Stating, "Drink your milk, Harry, it's good for you." Draco snickered. Reilly raised an eyebrow. "You haven't had yours yet, cousin." She chided, gently.

"I'm working on it." The boy muttered.

* * *

After breakfast, Harry and Draco found themselves banished to the grounds of the manor, instructed to amuse themselves and to try and stay out of trouble.

"What do you suppose it is they want to do without us around?" Draco seemed to hope that Harry would know more than he.

"No idea." Harry shrugged. "Reilly's a bit hard to predict under normal circumstances." The other boy laughed.

"She's crazy." Harry thought about it for a moment.

"Probably." He decided. "You've seen the ring on her finger?" Draco nodded, "She won't say, but I'm not certain that it wasn't Voldemort she was going to marry." Draco flinched at the name. "I don't know for sure, but it sure seems like it."

"Don't say the name." The boy hissed.

"Why not?"

"First off, Potter, it makes people jumpy. Secondly, do try to think about where you are. There's a reason they don't say the name, Potter. The rumors are that to say the name was once to summon the man."

"That can't be true. Dumbledore says it."

"Like he'd come when Dumbledore called." Malfoy scoffed. Harry shrugged.

"Whatever, Malfoy. I'll take the hint and stop testing your pet theory, since it makes you so jumpy." The boy's eyes narrowed darkly, but he did not bother responding. "What do you know about Reilly?"

"Not much." Draco shrugged. "You ought to know more than me. You've been living with her."

"She lies." Harry said. "Often. Just this morning she said she slept well. But she never does. She puts up silencing wards because her nightmares are so bad."

"Father says she sees the future in dreams, that it drove her crazy, that everyone who has the gift goes crazy."

"He's probably right." Harry shrugged. "She's something else, anyway." Malfoy started walking along a nearby path.

"Come on, if we're stuck out here, I may as well show you the grounds."

"Will you tell me about the acromantulas?" Harry asked, hurrying to catch up. Draco did tell him about the spiders. His great grandfather had apparently thought the nest was an illusion, a trap of some kind placed by an enemy wizard. He went into it and yelled a challenge, inviting the wizard to a duel. He'd had to fight his way out. Through a combination of magic and guile, he managed to relocate the spiders to the forbidden forest on the Hogwarts grounds. Harry wasn't sure he believed the location, but it was a good story, and Draco told it well.

* * *

"The boy-?" Lord Malfoy began after his wife had cleared both boys out of the area.

"It's Harry." Reilly answered. "Just Harry. I don't know why, or how, or for how long."

"Will Draco be safe with him?"

"With Harry? Doubtless. With Tom? I assume so."

"Tom?" Lord Malfoy asked sharply, hand going to his temples. Her smile was a small one.

"Your Dark Lord." She said with a shrug. "Tom Marvalo Riddle who I was to marry."

"My father was always remarkably close to him, remarkably outspoken, much more so than the rest of his followers. It was always my impression that father was the closest thing he had to a friend."

"That was not true in the time I knew them both. Abraxas didn't want his sister hurt, and that caused several kinds of problems that I was too foolish to prevent." She shrugged, "I am sorry for bringing this upon you."

"He was going to come back," Reminded Lord Malfoy, gently, "You said as much. If he hadn't used you and the boy, he would have found someone else." She gave a weak smile.

"I suppose."

* * *

"He told me to do something about the boy's wardrobe." She said, hovering on the edge of the room, as Narcissa painted. "I was hoping you might help. I'm about fifty years out of date."

"Let's see it then." Said Narcissa Malfoy, setting down her brush and paints and turning to look at the young woman. A few moments later, the girl had shown her. "He's right. It's ghastly." She concluded.

"He would be. He always was specific about his clothes." Narcissa shot her a careful glance, shaking her head.

"You talk about him as though he were human, a man like any other."

"I always found him to be so." The girl admitted. "Extraordinarily talented, but a man." Narcissa laughed lightly.

"It is very strange, to my husband and I, to hear him described so." She said, "We really should have someone burn these." She said, reflectively of the clothing.

"Should probably replace it first."

"I don't suppose you have the boy's measurements?"

"I don't. His Hogwarts robes should fit though."

"That should be enough for them to work from. I'll send them to the seamstress with an order."

"Should I-?" The girl looked lost. It took Narcissa a moment to ascertain the reason.

"You are family, and our Lord commands. Don't worry about it." She saw that her words did little to reassure the girl. "Though if you feel you must do something, Severus indicated that you were a stitch witch?"

"I am."

"Will you teach me?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lady."

"We are kin, you need not be so formal, dear."

* * *

Thank you, dear reader, for joining me thus far.

Kay- Thank you for a constructive review, your feedback is both helpful and welcome. I share your reading tastes.


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